Kinetic
by Electric Smile
Summary: As requested, a companion fic to 'Potential'. Chun-Li has an unusual problem on her hands in the form of a desperately confused Vega, who claims he's not who she says he is. She's determined to get to the bottom of what she assumes to be a bizarre ploy on Shadaloo's part. Is he lying, or is truth really sometimes stranger than fiction?
1. Chapter 1

The snow was nice. It fell softly, tickled her face, melted when it touched her skin. Winters could overstay their welcome sometimes. But with the relative newness of it, she could enjoy it. It looked best at night, those fuzzy little specks sparkling under the street lamps. It was cold, of course, but she liked winter clothes. She liked the warmth of the hot chocolate in her gloved hand as she walked down 5th avenue, the steel and concrete towers of the city to her right, the empty branches and snow-covered fields of Central Park on her left.

It'd been awhile since she'd been to New York. She'd lived here for her work, and had enjoyed it. Up until the end, at least. But she couldn't blame that part on the city. The attempt on her life by Shadaloo just told her she was getting somewhere-they wouldn't try to kill someone they didn't feel threatened by. And even though it'd been a close call, she'd survived it. But that'd been years ago.

She was here at the request of Interpol again. They had a lead on some organized criminal activity taking place in the city. Something about an anonymous tip on a big hit that was supposed to be going down. She hadn't gotten all the details yet, having just arrived that day. It may or may not have involved members of Shadaloo, so it'd gotten her attention and she'd work as hard as usual on it. Shadaloo had a lot of rivals in various illicit markets-drugs, arms, contract killings. From time to time, those rivalries exploded in a horrific fashion, usually leaving a lot of people dead. It didn't please her to see people die, even if they were murderers themselves. She was after justice, not vengeance.

She could have sworn she'd heard someone call her name. Glancing around, she didn't spot anyone she recognized. But the streets of New York were noisy, and she knew it was one of the more curious properties of the human brain to look for familiar patterns in such chaos. She wasn't too concerned over it. She'd had a busy day full of traveling and was ready to unwind. Walking along the streets, she took mental note of a few places she might enjoy checking out later in the evening. Maybe for dinner, or a drink or two.

Her room was on the fourth floor of her hotel, not terribly high up, so she didn't see any good reason to wait on an elevator. By the time it came, she could be halfway to her room, and that bed sounded more appealing than ever. The bags she carried weren't all that heavy. Setting one of them at her feet, she searched for her room key in her purse. There was the distinct feeling of a pair of eyes on her, but she didn't let it worry her too much. It wasn't unusual to feel like she was being looked at. She still tried to stay aware of who was around her. There was nothing wrong with being cautious, especially when there were a lot of criminals who knew her name and face.

She pushed her door open, and stopped by the closet to stash her bags. It struck her then that she didn't hear her door close, and she tensed when she heard someone let out a breath as if they were relieved to have finally caught up with her. The door was obscured from her view for a moment. A lapse in judgement, maybe. She should've paid more attention to whoever had been looking at her in the hallway. Slowly, she backed out of the closet, her heart beating a little faster. She heard the door finally click shut.

"When did my hair get-"

She didn't think, just acted, her foot meeting the back of the intruder's skull. He'd been facing the door as he'd turned to close it behind him, and the force of her blow sent him face first into the merciless surface. There was a loud thud when he made contact, and then another when he dropped to the floor. She blinked, not really expecting that. Vega generally reacted quicker, and she was ready for a vicious fight. But no, he was out cold. Maybe it was a trick. He certainly wasn't this easy to take down. She kept her stance, every muscle still tense as she waited for him to move.

But he didn't, and she was beginning to feel silly standing there like that. She had to know he wasn't faking, though. That he wasn't waiting for her to crouch down and take a better look at him so he'd catch her off guard. "You're ugly," she blurted out, heart still pumping a little too fast to come up with something more articulate.

Not even a twitch. Maybe he had more self-control than she thought. Or maybe she'd really knocked him out.

"I'm going to kick you in the face," she added. Still nothing. What was the deal? Why had he turned his back to her instead of attacking while hers was turned? How had he not reacted quicker? He hadn't even tried to block her kick. Why was he following her to begin with? She pressed her lips together at that last question. Did she really want to know the answer to that one? Cautiously, she crept towards him. One of his arms was underneath him, the other beside his head. She put her foot on it at the wrist and applied pressure. She bent slightly, reaching down to move his hair aside and see that his eyes were, in fact, closed. She smacked him once. Very lightly. It wouldn't take much to get him angry. He didn't respond at all. He was definitely, really unconscious.

So what did she do with him now? She stood up straight and stepped away from him. Did she call the police? She didn't have the evidence to out him as a member of Shadaloo, and the threat of a defamation suit was too much of a risk. She could say he'd attacked her, maybe. It was a lie, but only because she hadn't given him a chance. Now her curiosity was piqued. She needed to know why he was after her, and if she had more threats coming. Maybe she'd be able to make him barter information on Shadaloo in exchange for his freedom. Was he willing to turn on Bison like that? She tried to imagine what she thought was more frightening, a lifetime in prison or telling a supernaturally-powered megalomaniac that you may have let slip a thing or two about his paramilitary terrorist organization. At least in prison, death wasn't a certainty.

She strode over to the other side of the room. On the dresser was her bag of work-related clothes and items. Her more professional outfits were in there, along with case files, her own notes, and a pair of handcuffs. With the cuffs in hand, she went back over to him, and took a hold of his legs. She knew it wasn't wise to move someone who'd fallen unconscious, but she couldn't risk letting him wake up without restraining him first. He'd either sneak away or finish the attack she'd cut short. The bathroom would work fine enough as a temporary holding cell. She dragged him in, propped him up against the tub, and cuffed his arms to the support handle on the wall. His head dropped forward, he almost fell over, and she pushed him up again. Now his head lolled back, and she figured that was good enough. She patted over his pockets, and took his phone. If he called the cops, it'd cause a mess. And if he called on Shadaloo, it'd be much worse. She left him in there and closed the door.

Of course she looked at his phone. And of course it required a pin to unlock. She studied the screen carefully, trying to find a pattern in the various fingerprints and smudges on its surface. It was useless, given how many there were. She tried his birthday, something she knew from her research on him. First the month and day. Nothing. Then the year. Nothing. He wasn't that careless. She left it alone on the nightstand beside the bed. Shadaloo was very thorough and protective of their higher-ups. It was unlikely she'd find anything useful in forming a case against him.

That left her with the question of why he'd followed her here. She knew he had a special sort of hatred for her, beyond the disdain for law enforcement his line of work practically required. It didn't bother her any because she despised him just the same. The only person she could think of that she hated more was Bison himself. At first, he'd just been a name on some papers at work, and she hadn't thought much of him. Of course a Shadaloo assassin was bound to be good at their job. Bison was very discerning, and didn't waste his time on people who'd screw things up for him. So she knew he was deadly. She just didn't know how vicious he was until she was fighting for her life in her apartment. She still had nightmares about that evening sometimes. Of a vague sense of dread at the sudden realization that she no longer _felt _like she was alone. Of those razor-sharp claws and the white mask, knowing exactly who he was and what it meant that he was in her apartment. The physical wounds hurt of course, but memories of the situation emphasized the emotions much more-the fear, the dread, the panic. He would've killed her if she hadn't managed to anger him. It gave her enough of an opening to send him through the window. She remembered being a little stunned that she'd kicked him hard enough to accomplish it because windows don't break _that _easily. For a brief moment she still felt panic that she'd just killed someone. In her line of work, she fought a lot of people, even had to fire guns on them sometimes, but she'd never killed anyone.

Months later, he resurfaced, having been reported as the prime suspect in a massacre that left twelve members of a rival arms dealing group dead. A surviving eye witness gave the description, and Chun-Li could still remember the way her heart dropped. How did someone survive a fall like that? And if they did, how were they able to walk, let alone carry out an operation like that? She thought at first, maybe Bison had hired a replacement who happened to look similar. But eventually, she saw him herself. And he knew, too, that she was shocked, because she remembered the way they locked eyes just before he launched himself from the roof of the building to an adjacent one. The way his normally cold eyes held a hint of mischievousness, as if to ask her, '_did you miss me?'_ Bison was capable of many things that even the rest of the world's most advanced scientists didn't have a handle on yet. Vega must've remained alive long enough to be recovered and returned to health at Shadaloo. Things like that made it feel like a hopeless fight, sometimes. That no matter how hard you knocked them down, they'd always get back up.

A noise from the bathroom brought her attention back to the present. Someone shuffling around. A muffled groan. Her heart began beating a little faster. She didn't relish the idea of speaking with him. He knew how to press her buttons, how to make her uncomfortable, and he'd do it if it meant getting away from her. For all of the foul or perverse things he might hint at or say-and in such a polite voice, heightening the discomfort caused by the words-she knew he hated her just as much as she hated him. But she couldn't let him get the better of her, and she couldn't let him just go on his merry way to kill someone else. She quickly went back over to the door, and pressed her ear against it. "What..." she heard him mumble, and the metal of the cuffs clanged a little against the handle they were locked on to. "Hey." She waited further, unsure just yet of what to say to him. "Um, I'm sorry I scared you, but I think this is a little bit of an extreme reaction. Maybe."

She narrowed her eyes. Was it the barrier of the door that made his voice sound different? Like his accent was thicker than normal? And that he sounded less pretentious?

"Why is my hair so long all of a sudden?"

Her lips came together tightly. What kind of question was that? How hard had she knocked his head against that door? The realization that she may have given him a concussion came to her, and she sighed. How useful could he be if he was this confused?

"Are you going to let me out of here? What's going on?"

Finally, she found her voice, and said, "I thought maybe you could answer that for me."

"Ah...hm-what? I'm so confused right now..." Where was his fervor? His hatred of her? Where were threats on her life and sick, twisted descriptions of what he'd do to her when he caught her? He was trying to disarm her, she was sure of it.

"Why did you follow me here?" she demanded.

"I don't know. Why aren't we in Chicago?" he asked. "What happened to the apartment?"

Now she drew back away from the door. What was he playing at? Or had she really given him some kind of brain damage? "What are you talking about?"

She heard him moving around. "Eh, you sound upset. Can we talk about this? I'm really so confused."

He sounded convincing, but then again, he was a great actor. You didn't get to lead a night life as sinister as his if you weren't. "Nice try, Vega, but I'm not letting you out of here until you tell me what you're up to." Maybe that would have to change though, given his confusion and previous state of unconsciousness. She was beginning to think it might be necessary to take him to a hospital. At least then, she could confirm whether all of this was just some ploy to get her to let her guard down, or an actual medical issue. She couldn't let him go alone though. Couldn't risk losing him. She sighed heavily. Was this really how she was going to spend her evening, babysitting a serial killer?

"_Who_ is Vega? What is wrong with you? _Why _am I handcuffed to a shower?"

Slowly, she pushed open the door. Her lips were just a bit parted, and she was clearly confounded by his behavior. He looked up immediately, and it was like she was looking at another person. That dangerous glint in his eyes she was so used to seeing was gone, replaced by desperation. The usually cold and passive expression was completely absent. "What do you mean, 'who is Vega'?" she asked, looking him in the eye.

"You called me Vega. I think." His brows turned upward. "Can you let this off of me?" He shook his hands, metal clanging against metal.

"Who are you, if you aren't Vega?" she asked, ignoring his question.

"Andres. You know me...Are you okay?" His voice was so full of concern, something she'd never heard from him before. There was no icy edge to his tone, no flowery language. He sounded nothing like himself.

"Who am I to you?" she demanded. He seemed to think he knew her, that he was on friendly terms with her or something.

"We've been dating for five years now," he said, almost approaching indignant. But that tone of concern was still there.

"No!" she shouted upon hearing that. Had he snapped? Snapped _further, _she supposed, was a better way to put it. Was he stalking her, pretending to be her lover? In that moment, she couldn't think of a more horrifying notion than being in an amorous relationship with a terrorist assassin/psychopath. Her sudden, loud response made him jump, and his eyes went wide. He looked like a puppy who'd just been scolded.

"I-ah...wow, what a reaction," he said quietly, turning his eyes to the floor. "I'm sorry. Whatever I did, I'm sorry, but please, can't we talk about it?"

"Oh my God," she huffed, and turned away, slamming the door behind her. She couldn't do it. Couldn't face him like that. It was too bizarre. It was his most unusual act yet, and she wasn't about to fall for it. Unless he had really gone completely insane and was now convinced they were a couple. Never in her life would that be a true statement. He could be the last man on Earth and it wouldn't happen. He could be ready to save her from certain death with that one condition standing between herself and salvation and she'd rather laugh her way into the afterlife.

"I can't figure out how to fix this if you won't even tell me what I did wrong!" he called out. She didn't know what to do with him now. Could she afford to let him go without figuring out what he was here for? Why he'd followed her? Technically, she'd kidnapped him and could get in a lot of trouble over it. She had no good reason to arrest him-at least, not one that she had enough evidence to prove. She couldn't let him go. He was a good actor, but he didn't have an infinite amount of patience. Eventually he'd show his true colors, and she'd get what she wanted from him. Maybe she _did _need to get his head checked out to be sure this wasn't all a result of an injury.

Suddenly, she heard him say something that she thought might have been in Mandarin, and it startled her. As far as she knew, he didn't speak Chinese. What was his angle here? Had she really heard that?

She pushed open the door again, eyes fierce and staring him down to show she wasn't afraid of him. "What did you say?" she asked sharply.

He repeated it, though some of the intonations were off. "Pretty spring girl..." he said, and his cheeks turned a little red. She'd never seen him blush before. If anything, he was usually making _her _blush by making some graphic references to his exploits because he knew they made her uncomfortable.

"It's said like this." She pronounced the words the way they were meant to be said, although, it was still nonsensical.

"I can never get it right," he muttered.

"Why did you say it to begin with?"

He looked completely defeated. These expressions on his face were completely alien. He had three settings, so far as she knew-confident, condescendingly amused, and psychotic. "It's a joke," he said. "When I tried to write you a letter in Mandarin, to ask you out on a date." She wrinkled her nose, almost instinctively, at the prospect of being asked out by him. "And I messed a lot of it up. I remember mixing up the characters for 'heaven' and 'big', and you thought I might have been implying you were fat."

Her face burned red for a moment. "I'm not!" she snapped.

"I know," he responded. "You look beautiful." So he'd gotten pretty convincing at faking sincerity. He was still a monster, even if he could act like he wasn't. And maybe that was the reason he was a much worse monster than the average.

"How hard did I hit you?" She took a step towards him, but stopped. She pictured him sweeping her legs out from under her. She'd hit the ground and he'd slam a heel into her throat. "Get in the tub," she ordered.

"What? Why are you acting like this?" he griped.

"Do it, so I can look at your pupils."

"What do you think I'm going to do?" he wondered, still pretending to be completely dumbfounded. It was really starting to annoy her.

"Don't play dumb, I'm not falling for it," she said. "Get in the tub."

He sighed, some kind of agitation finally showing. He winced a little at the awkward way his arms were held behind him. It was almost impossible to do what she'd asked, and was a little painful, but he managed it. She stepped closer, and sat on the closed toilet. "Why are we in New York, anyway?" he asked.

She ignored him at first, turning his face towards her cautiously. She thought this would be it. This would send him into rabid, psycho overdrive, her touching his face. But no, he sat patiently, eyes occasionally flicking away as she tried to study them before settling back on hers. They seemed normal and focused, but his behavior was still all wrong. She let go of him and sat up. "You don't know why you're here?" she asked.

"No. I thought we were at home. You went to the store. I went to sleep," he said, squinting a little as he thought. "I remember getting up to take a shower. I don't remember coming to New York."

"Why do you think we were in Chicago together?" she asked. She didn't see how that made any sense, even if his reasoning was to try to get her to relax around him.

"I was hired by a university there," he said, and that desperation was creeping back into his voice. "Don't you remember? What's going on?"

"Hired to do what?" she said. What a school wanted with a bullfighter or murderer was beyond her.

"To teach!" he answered, almost shouting it at her like it should be obvious. "Why can't you remember anything? _Why_ is my hair like this?"

Maybe it was best to be direct. To not play along, to not let him think he was fooling her. "Look, just level with me. You know I can't arrest you. You know that I know you're playing a game. So just come out with it already. Who are you here to kill?"

His eyes flew wide at the question. "What are you talking about?!" he cried. "Kill? I can't kill someone!"

The reaction was so volatile, so instant, she almost thought it could be genuine. But she had to remember he was, above all else, a very convincing liar. "Right," she answered with a snort.

"_Ayyyy mi querida..._" he groaned. "What is going on? You think I _killed _somebody?"

"Think?" she echoed, a clipped, sarcastic laugh following. "Where are you staying?"

"I thought with you!"

"Don't move," she ordered, and he even seemed to hold his breath for a minute, staring at her. She felt over his pocket, it was empty. She felt the other. Also empty. She grimaced a little, and said, "Don't take this the wrong way." Her hand came around to his back pocket, and she found what she was looking for.

"You've done a lot worse than touch my butt, you know," he muttered. It was her turn to wrinkle her nose, an immediate and unstoppable reaction. He looked at what she'd taken from him, and his confusion deepened. "That's not mine, anyway. It looks kind of beyond my price range."

She turned her attention back to the wallet. Credit card, identification card. She pulled it out. The picture was plainly his, the name as well. She turned it around for his benefit. "Nice try," she said, and watched as his brows drew together.

"What?" he muttered. "That's not my name, that's not my birthday, and that's not my DNI number, either. What is this?"

She flipped it back over, and studied it. It seemed to be real to her, with the right marks of authenticity in place. He seemed pretty insistent that his name wasn't Vega, and that was an interesting aspect of his act that she hadn't quite worked out yet. She ignored his questions, mostly because she couldn't answer them, and kept digging through his wallet. She found some scrap of folded up paper. She opened it, revealing what almost looked like a hastily drawn blueprint or diagram of the layout of a few rooms. Scribbled on the back, it said, "_1205B x 4, C x 6, D= peligroso, no lo intente."_

"What is this about?" she asked, holding it up to him so he could read it.

He glanced at it, then up at her. "I don't know," he answered, shrugging and shaking his head.

"What does it say?"

"I don't know what all the numbers and letters are for," he responded. "It says 'dangerous, don't try it'."

"Don't try what?" She turned the scrap of paper back towards herself, wondering what it might mean. Probably related to his work with Shadaloo. A plan of attack, some advice to himself. She stopped, remembering the assignment she'd been called to New York for. Could he be involved?

"How am I supposed to know? I didn't write that!"

"Why was it in your wallet?" she asked, shaking the object in question.

"I don't know if that's even mine!"

She looked through the rest of the items. There was some cash. Another card. She tugged it out, and smirked in triumph. Just what she was looking for. A hotel key card. He was staying in the city, and this paper, unless it was old, indicated to her that he wasn't here just to visit. She began to map out a plan herself. Find the nearest hospital to make sure his brain wasn't hemorrhaging or something. A health issue meant she'd leave him alone. He wouldn't be any help then, and she couldn't justify keeping him around. If he was here to hurt anyone, and she'd given him an injury, he probably wouldn't be able to carry out his assignment. But if it turned out she hadn't hurt him, that he was faking all of this, she'd get him to talk. "Okay," she said finally. "We're going to a hospital."

"Why? Are you okay?" he asked, and she really was annoyed with his concern. Like _she _was the one with the problem here.

"Yes, but you aren't. Or, you're pretending not to be. So we're going to settle this."

He sighed heavily, plainly agitated, but not angry with her. And that annoyed her too. He was being too patient, too cooperative. "Okay, fine, if that will make you feel better. You're going to take these off of me?" He shook his wrists, indicating the handcuffs.

"Oh, you wish I were that generous," she said, cautiously undoing one of the cuffs and snapping it to her own wrist instead. He sighed, but shook out his free hand and rolled his shoulders in their sockets.

"I don't understand this. Why do you even have handcuffs anyway?"

"Save your breath. I don't believe you," she responded. "The act is getting old."

"What am I supposed to do to convince you that I'm completely confused right now?"

"Nothing." She pulled the end of her sleeve over the handcuff on her wrist, and inspected her arm. It didn't look too obvious, the coat sleeve being big enough to conceal the metal cuff. Chances were, no one would be paying that much attention to their wrists anyway. She tugged on his sleeve, too, then took his hand in hers. This looked a little less conspicuous. "Don't take your hand off of mine," she ordered. "Don't make a scene, either. In fact, don't talk to anyone unless I tell you."

"Why are you acting like this?" he muttered, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

She ignored him. She wasn't going to play games with him, even if he wanted her to. With her hand firmly grasping his, as much as it repulsed her to touch him, she led the way out of the hotel in search of a doctor in hopes of getting some answers.


	2. Chapter 2

"This is probably going to be expensive, isn't it?" he said as they walked. She didn't want to take a cab and risk him claiming to the driver that she'd kidnapped him. Being in such close quarters as a car just seemed like a bit of a bad idea. Sure the streets were filled with people, but she wasn't stuck with any of them in a vehicle that could jet them off to the nearest police station. It'd be relatively easy for him to alarm someone by showing that they were cuffed to each other. Until they got to the hospital, she couldn't risk taking them off, or he might bolt. She was pretty fast, but he was like a gazelle. Legally, she supposed, she was a bit in the wrong here, but that was only because she didn't have the evidence to show Vega for who he really was. Her actions were just if they ended up preventing another crime, or leading to his detainment. He seemed fine on his feet, no balance issues, he could walk normally. She couldn't say she was terribly concerned with his comfort and well-being, anyway.

"Poor you," she said. "It's not like you're _rich _or anything."

"What are you saying?" he asked. Not annoyed, but confused. The bizarre, but usual, as of the past few hours.

She shot him a look, telling him she wasn't going to play along. With a nod of her head, she indicated the bank at the end of the block. There was bound to be an ATM, so she said, "Why don't we check, since you're so uncertain?"

He made a little humming noise, the corner of his lip pulling back. As they approached the bank, he finally said, "Okay. Maybe this will prove to you I'm not whoever you think I am." She led him in, not realizing what an awkward task it was to open a door while handcuffed to someone. She gave him his card back, having kept his wallet to avoid losing it, or for him to ditch it somehow so she couldn't get into his hotel room. He ran the card, staring thoughtfully at the screen as it asked for a PIN. He guessed, and it was wrong.

"Don't pretend you don't know it," she said.

"I'm not pretending," he responded defensively. He tried another, and let out a frustrated sigh. Third time, and it worked. "I haven't used that number for years." He pushed the button to display his savings. She glanced over at him, and his eyes were wide. He uttered a shocked curse in Spanish.

"Yeah, so poorly done for," she said, a hand coming up to her hip. It was the kind of wealth she could dream about, but never really see herself attaining. Not that she was driven by financial gain. The work she did was more important to her than money, and the thought of bringing Bison and his followers to justice was more motivational than any amount of cash.

"This is..." he started, then took a deep breath. "This can't be right. What I inherited from my mother was not anywhere near this. So much of it was spent on her treatment. This-" He started to bring his right hand up to run it through his hair, but met resistance. He'd forgotten his arm was cuffed to hers. "What is going on? Are you sure this is mine?"

"It's not funny, the way you keep pretending not to know," she said. She closed the transaction, and yanked on his hand. "Come on. Let's go and get the proof that you're playing some weird game." He still seemed dazed as they left the bank, but at least she'd cut off one way for him to refuse the hospital visit. It made her a little more certain that all of this was an act. If he was looking for excuses to not get examined by a doctor, it could mean he knew she was on the right track to proving him wrong.

At the hospital, he tried again to mess things up, further impressing upon her that her first assumptions about him had been correct. She'd uncuffed them, and he hadn't run. They approached the desk, and when he was asked for his name, he responded, "Andres Quesada Navarro." She kicked him in the shin, lightly, to get his attention. He hissed and glared at her. "What was that for?" he whispered angrily.

"That's _not _your name," she whispered back, digging out his DNI card from his wallet.

"Don't tell me what my own name is!" he said in a rushed, low voice. "This one sounds made up anyway! No one's first name is 'Vega' in Spain, and 'la Cerna'? Shouldn't it be _de _la Cerna?"

It didn't greatly concern her whether his name sounded authentic or not, and since she wasn't from his culture, she'd never been struck one way or the other about whether or not his name sounded unusual. She knew he'd try to screw things up by giving false information to the hospital, and shouldn't have trusted him to talk to anyone in the first place. She put the card on the desk, waiting for the woman to turn back around and face them. Chun-Li smiled sweetly to her. "No, he gave you the wrong name. That's why we're here," she explained, handing the ID over to her.

"Okay. Fill these out, someone will be with you in a moment," the woman said, handing back the card and a few papers.

Chun-Li took them. She wasn't going to let him fill them out. He'd just ruin that, too. "Sit here," she ordered as they approached a row of chairs, and he did. She copied information from the card, but that only answered so much. The easiest part was writing in the reason for his visit. She wrote 'head injury', and gave a brief description of how his behavior seemed abnormal. He wouldn't be able to change the story once he was alone with a doctor, at least. "Are you allergic to anything?" she asked, glancing at the impressive list of things a person could have a bad reaction to.

"Not that I know of," he answered. Then he gave a short, ironic laugh. "But what do I know? Maybe that's different, too."

She ignored him. "Are there any major illnesses that run in your family?" she asked.

"My mother had cancer..." he responded, and sounded hurt. She caught the way his head hung down after he said it. Like he expected her to know that. She wrote it in.

"Do you take any kind of medication?"

He sighed, obviously annoyed now. "You should know all of these things," he said, taking his head in his hands. "What is happening to me?" He groaned a little, ran his hands into his hair.

"Take that as a no," she mumbled under her breath, marking the box. It was as much as she could fill out, anyway. She pushed the clipboard towards him, and said, "Sign that." He sat up, glanced at the page wearily, like he was ready to flop over and fall asleep. But he took the pen, and started to sign the form. Chun-Li stopped him when he finished writing the first name. Grabbing his hand, she took the pen from him. "Do I have to do this part, too?" she asked angrily, scribbling over what he'd written. She looked at his DNI card again, held it to the paper, and did her best to emulate his signature. Maybe it was wrong to forge a signature, but he still wouldn't cooperate, and this was too important. What choice did she have? She took the forms back to the desk and sat beside him again.

There was a tense silence. She obviously didn't want to be there, and he obviously felt bad about something. She caught his lips moving a few times out of the corner of her eye, like he was going to say something, but he always stopped himself. Maybe he was getting closer to admitting he was lying to her. That he was playing some stupid game. But he stayed quiet. Someone eventually called for him, and at first he didn't respond. She had to tap her foot against his to get him to look up. Even now he was still dedicated to his act. She watched as he disappeared down the hall, following a nurse.

She knew it could take awhile, and let out a sigh at her lost evening. So much for a nice dinner, or hitting a bar. But this problem was too pressing, and she couldn't just let it go unsolved. There was a slightly exciting prospect of figuring out a way to get together the evidence to have him arrested and prosecuted, so she tried to focus on that. If he was here on assignment from Shadaloo, it was almost certain that if she could get into his hotel room, she'd find enough evidence to bring him to trial. But then she had to think about the legal aspects. She didn't have a warrant to search anything, and if he refused to let her search the place-which she was certain he would-it'd give him time to get rid of anything.

The wait got boring quickly, and she drew out her phone. She checked her social media accounts, envious of photos from friends who were actually _enjoying _their Friday night. Ken and Eliza were in Paris. He was always jetting off somewhere. She liked traveling, but she'd never met someone who did as much of it as Ken. She supposed Ryu could give him a run for his money, though. There was a picture Julia had recently posted of Guile's daughter, Amy, helping him shuck some corn for dinner. Cammy made her feel a bit better, making a self-deprecating remark about an evening of Guinness, fish fingers, and the campiest 80's movie Netflix had to offer. So she wasn't the only one with a night in alone. But even that sounded more appealing than babysitting an assassin pretending to be amnesiac.

She switched gears, trying to keep her interest in a game, but failing. She tried reading next, glancing through headlines, but ultimately never opening an article. She crossed her legs, trying to get more comfortable in the chair, and heard something fall of the floor. Next to her foot, there was Vega's wallet. It'd been in her lap. She picked it up again, not wanting to lose it. She bit her lip as she thought about the odd situation he'd dragged her into. What was that name he kept calling himself? Maybe she could figure out some way to unravel his act if she figured out who that was supposed to be. She returned her attention to her phone, this time running a search on it.

It seemed not to be a terribly common name, but neither was it exactly unique. There were a few social media accounts showing up, and none of them were Vega's. She continued on to the next page. Nothing too interesting, nothing to indicate why he'd suddenly decided to start calling himself by it. By the third page of results, she was ready to give up when something caught her eye. The word 'asesinado' was in one of the links, and that sounded an awful lot like 'assassin' to her. It made her curious. The page was all in Spanish, but the browser offered a translation, and she learned 'asesinado' was 'murdered'. Still relevant, she thought. It was an old article, an archive from a Spanish newspaper, detailing a double-homicide that happened in Barcelona. A fairly prominent businessman, Fernando Durante Santiago, shot and killed his wife, Mireia Sofia Navarro. It went on to say the man attempted to kill his step-son, Andres Quesada Navarro. So there was the name, but what did it have to do with Vega's game, if anything at all? The step-son killed his step-father instead of becoming the next victim. It was ruled as self-defense, and the teen wasn't jailed for it.

She tried another search, this time adding the term 'murder'. The article came up again. The second was someone's personal webpage. She'd seen sites like this before, people who had a morbid interest in murders and crime scenes. Chun-Li thought it was a bit of a strange hobby to have. There were a number of links listed down the side of the page to other cases, and she had to wonder how much time the creator of the site dedicated to it.

She waited for the browser to translate the page before scrolling down. There was a picture of a pretty blonde woman, the subtext telling her this was Mireia. The site told the same story as the article, although it did so in a more dramatic fashion and in much more detail. There were snippets of input from people who knew the family. Information sourced from whatever court records were available to the public. Whoever made the site apparently did their homework.

There was a brief introductory paragraph about the murder before the article went into a bit more depth about Mireia. She'd come from a family of lower status and married Sergi Quesada, a man who had some relation to Catalan nobility. Sergi's aristocratic family was, apparently, wary of the union between their son and Mireia, suspecting he'd married her as an act of defiance to them, or that she was looking for a quick and easy way to climb the social ladder. There was a photo of the man and Mireia, and Chun-Li was struck by how much he looked like Vega. They weren't twins by any means, with this man having the more traditional Spanish look of dark brown hair and eyes. There were some other differences as well, but overall he was a very attractive man. They both appeared happy, the man with his arm slung around Mireia's shoulder, her smiling brightly at the camera.

As happy as they looked, though, the story quickly went sour. For reasons unknown, Sergi suddenly abandoned his family when their son was about five years old. The writer speculated that he may have run off with another woman, citing his family's aforementioned worries over his rushing into marriage. He could've realized he wasn't as in love as he thought, and left at the first opportunity. There were a few more bits of input from friends of Mireia, saying that the abandonment devastated her. She became cold, resentful, almost vindictive. A lot of people distanced themselves from her as a result, and this served only to make her more stubborn in her resolve. She had her son, and that became all that mattered to her. A few of her friends commented that she seemed, at times, almost too smothering, too dependent on him. She ended up remarrying twelve years after her first husband abandoned her.

Her second husband was nothing like her first, according to Mireia's friends. Sergi had been friendly and easy-going. Fernando was paranoid, jealous, and petty. Chun-Li pressed her lips together at that description, thinking it sounded a bit like Vega. The transition hadn't been easy on any of them. Fernando made no reservations about his distaste for Andres, but Mireia was no doormat. She wouldn't stand for the man berating her son, and that only served to make Fernando hate him more. "If I were to guess," put in one of Mireia's friends, "I'd say Fernando saw Andres as competition for his new wife's attention."

There was another picture, this time of Fernando and Mireia, and Chun-Li couldn't help but wrinkle her nose a little. He _looked _like a jerk. She knew it wasn't fair to judge people for their looks, but she supposed there was a clear record of the man's actions to go by as well. There was an obvious change in Mireia when compared with the last photo. Gone was her glowing smile and bright eyes. Her eyes were so much like Vega's here-cold, emotionless, the eyes of somebody putting on a show. She kept scrolling. It gave the account of the murder in a bit more detail than the previous article. According to testimony given by the son, Fernando accused Mireia of being 'disrespectful' before shooting her. Fernando tried to kill Andres next. He tried to strangle his step-son, losing hold of his gun in the process, and Andres used it to kill Fernando.

The page went on to say that they tried to get into contact with Andres, to ask what he'd gone on to do with his life and how these events had impacted him. But his whereabouts were unknown, and all attempts to track him down resulted in nothing. She drew in a breath, and looked away from her phone. She really didn't know anything about Vega's past. She knew he was a matador, that he was from Barcelona, and that was about it. Could this story really be about him? The names were different, but there was some clear resemblance between Vega and Mireia and Sergi. She recalled how he mentioned at the desk that his name sounded made up. So was his a false identity? If so, why would he create one?

It made her curious. This could be the key to exposing him as a fraud. Sure, changing your name wasn't a crime by any means, but if she could dig up more about his past, she might find something worth arresting him for. Maybe he'd committed some other big crime, and had gotten caught. It could be a good motivation to try to change your identity. She spent a few minutes writing up an e-mail to the appropriate department in Interpol. A request for a background check on Andres and whatever records were available on the murder. For good measure, she asked for one on his parents as well. She knew sometimes these requests could take a while to be processed and ultimately fulfilled, but hoped it would end up being worth her while.

She heard Vega call her name, and it was almost surreal. She couldn't remember him ever referring to her by her proper name. How long had she been sitting here, reading about this murder case? At least, she guessed, it'd passed the time. She stood up, ready to get him in handcuffs again before he weaseled his way out of here on his own. A doctor was with him, so she couldn't do it right away. "Hi, are you the one staying with him?" the doctor asked.

"Yes," she lied, just to hear what he had to say.

"Okay. Not really suspecting a concussion based on what I've seen here. A blow to the head resulting in unconsciousness doesn't always necessarily result in one. He's not really exhibiting any of the hallmark symptoms, but just to be safe, I'd like you to keep an eye out for things like nausea or vomiting, decrease in coordination, balance, or motor skills, severe headaches, pupil abnormalities, slurring speech, convulsions or seizures."

She nodded as he spoke, feeling a bit satisfied. So he was faking all of this. Good, then this hadn't been a complete waste of her time. Just to be certain, she asked, "So, what about the memory loss? He says he doesn't know how he got to New York. That he was in Chicago."

"The sort of memory loss caused by head injuries tends to involve an inability to remember new information after sustaining the injury. He mentions his issues starting before you, ah, kicked him." She flushed a little red, like she'd gotten into some kind of trouble. If the doctor knew Vega the way she did, he'd see it made sense to respond with immediate force. "I went ahead and ordered an MRI, some blood tests. Didn't see any brain abnormalities to indicate any damage." She almost snorted and wanted to ask if he'd looked hard enough, but just continued to nod instead. "Blood tests will rule out any sort of nutritional deficiencies, diseases, anything like that. We can call you with the results and, if necessary, arrange a follow-up."

"Okay, thank you," she said. When the doctor was gone, there was another tense silence between her and Vega. He probably knew he'd been caught in his lie. She should've relished in it, showing him up like this. But she was just annoyed at all the time she'd made him waste. "So, are you willing to admit it yet?" she asked him.

"Admit what?"

"That you're faking all of this."

He closed his eyes and raised his eyebrows, shaking his head a little bit. He looked back over at her, and it was just too unusual to see him without any kind of malice or hatred in his eyes. "I'm not faking anything. I'm happy you didn't split my brain open, but I'm still confused about what's going on," he said. "I don't know how to convince you I'm not this Vega guy, or when you decided you even thought I was to begin with." He started to walk off, and she was about to call after him when she saw him approach the counter. He was just paying for the appointment and tests, she realized, and there was a bit of a relief. For a moment, a scenario ran through her head of chasing him through a hospital or around Manhattan, and it seemed impossibly stressful. But he didn't even try to leave her, instead coming back over with a few paper receipts. He was studying the numbers, which she supposed were not exactly small. "Where do you think I got all this money, anyway?" he asked as they headed towards an exit. The conversational tone was another oddity, leaving her feeling like she wasn't even talking to Vega, but to a completely different person.

"You're a famous matador," she answered.

He laughed outright, but she didn't laugh with him. It made him hesitate. "You're being serious?"

She nodded.

"I couldn't be a matador, my dad would've killed me before any bull had a chance."

"I'm really not going to argue with you over it," she responded, taking him by the wrist as they approached the exit.

He made an agitated noise. "Are you _really _putting those back on me?" he asked.

"I don't trust you." She led them outside, and pulled him over towards the corner of the building, away from the doors. People tended to keep to themselves, but she didn't want someone to notice what she was doing. She faced him, slapped on the cuffs, and they were back to the way they were before they got here.

"That's kind of hurtful," he said.

"I don't care."

"What did I do?" He was practically begging, and it was completely uncharacteristic of him. Was there really nothing wrong with him? She briefly wondered about asking for a second opinion, but it was getting late and she'd given him enough of her time already.

"We're going back to your hotel room," she said, ignoring the question. He knew what he'd done, he just wanted to pretend otherwise. To toy with her, to get her worked up and pissed off. And it was working, which just made her even more irritated with him.

"Why do I have a separate room from you?" he asked.

"Stop it, okay!" she shouted finally. She was tired of all the questions, annoyed that he wouldn't just drop it and reveal his true, awful self. "I'm not falling for it, so shut up!" She didn't like yelling at people, but he was an obvious exception. Maybe she was giving him what he wanted with such a reaction. She couldn't bring herself to care, having an urgent need to vent her frustrations somehow.

He immediately stopped talking, and his eyes fell to the sidewalk. It was pathetic, almost, but she didn't care because at least he'd gotten quiet. She was able to ignore him for the most part after that. Once more, she looked into his wallet for the hotel room key, and searched on her phone for the location. It reminded her of the articles she'd been reading while he was being examined. About Andres and Vega, who was who, if they were really the same people or if his resemblance to Mireia and Sergi was just a coincidence. After all, how could she know how well-researched a random website was? Maybe the page had been full of errors. She couldn't know. Her own research could possibly sort things out, but then, she also had a first-hand source right here. Whether or not he'd tell the truth was impossible to know. She looked over at him. He was still quiet, glancing around at their surroundings every so often but mostly facing forward. "You said your name is Andres, right?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered.

"What was your mom's name?"

His brows drew together and she saw his jaw clench slightly before he looked off to the left. "You should know," he mumbled to himself. He took a deep breath before saying, "Mireia."

"And what happened between her and Fernando?" she asked.

At that, a confused expression passed over his face. "Who is that?"

"Your step-father?"

"What are you talking about? I never had a step-father."

She pressed her lips together. Was the page wrong about the identity of Mireia's killer? About her remarrying? No, she realized quickly, because the newspaper article had mentioned the same name as the website. How likely was it that they were both misinformed? Things were beyond messy to her. Maybe the Andres from the article wasn't Vega after all, but could it be just a huge coincidence he claimed to have the same parents? And that he looked so much like them? Maybe he knew of this particular murder case and was just making things up based on that to confuse her. She couldn't know how he thought-he was a disturbed individual, and completely unpredictable. "How did you say your mom died?" she asked.

"Cancer."

So there was another difference. Not murder, but illness. What was the point of this part of the game? To gain her sympathy, maybe? "And what happened to your dad?"

"Car wreck." She saw his eyes roll up to look at the grey and darkening sky before flicking back down to the sidewalk. "It was a bad few years. You should know."

"Why should I know?" she asked.

"Because you were probably the only reason I got through them."

She stayed quiet, maintaining a passive outward appearance. Obviously it wasn't true. Regardless of how his parents died-through some messy murder, or more mundane reasons-she had not been there for him. The notion that this was some way to get her to sympathize with him and thus, disarm her, seemed more and more likely. She couldn't allow that to happen. No matter how desperate or upset he sounded, no matter how different and unlike himself he seemed, he was still Vega, a murderer, hired killer, terrorist, and completely unrepentant about all of it. There were few types of people more disgusting than him, and all of this manipulation reminded her of that. Prison was the best place for someone like him to be, and she was intending to get him there, no matter the cost.

* * *

Maybe stating the obvious here, but I'm not a doctor and the medical stuff in this chapter was the result of a few minutes of research online. I could've very easily misinterpreted some of the information, so feel free to let me know so I can change it. Same with the stuff about names. I think 'de' is the Spanish nobility particle, not 'la' by itself, and i couldn't find any names that use just 'la'...not that I'm expecting a ton of integrity from the street fighter anime that made that part of the name up anyway :P Thank you to everyone reading and/or reviewing. :)


	3. Chapter 3

This hotel was obviously nicer than hers. Not that the quality of her own hotel was so terrible. And not that she cared too much about it one way or the other. It was, after all, just a hotel. Some place to sleep and work out of, and maybe eat dinner in when she didn't feel like sitting alone in a restaurant and having someone try to pick up on her.

She discreetly unlocked the cuffs, slipping them into the pocket of her navy coat. She looked over at him, nodded to the front desk, and he made a disagreeable noise. She pulled on his arm, and he shot her an irritated look, but ultimately did what she was wordlessly demanding of him. It was bizarre, watching him as he cautiously approached the counter, so obviously unsure of himself and what he was here for. 'Vega' and 'unsure' weren't meant to be in the same sentence.

"Hello..." he said sort of slowly to the clerk behind the desk. He was plainly nervous, like he was going to say the wrong thing and get caught in a lie. She quirked an eyebrow at the sight. He was really dedicated to this 'I'm not myself' thing. "I've forgotten my room number. Can you tell me what it is?"

"Certainly, can I have your name?" the woman behind the desk responded, fingers on the keyboard.

"Aaann-" he started to say, stretching the sound of the syllable as he caught himself. But then his eyes narrowed when he couldn't remember the whole name he was supposed to give her.

"He's being a little forgetful today," Chun-Li said to the clerk, stepping in before his behavior got too suspicious. She wasn't going to let him avoid this, and the more he resisted and messed up, the more she felt she was closer to finding something he didn't want her to find. But if that was the case, why was he playing along at all? Why didn't he just run, or give up the act and tell her off? "Started his weekend a little early, if you understand me." She smiled reassuringly at the woman, digging Vega's ID out of his wallet. She slid it across the counter. The woman picked it up, casting a cautious glance over at Vega and then to the picture on the card.

"Right, here you are," she said. "1466." She handed the card back, and Vega took it, completely mystified.

"Thank you," Chun-Li said, tugging on Vega's hand and making him move towards the elevators. "I knew I couldn't trust you to do something so simple. You have to try to ruin everything."

He was still staring at the card, confounded. "Vega," he repeated. "Why..." He pressed his lips together. "When did this happen? I changed my name?" Then he shook his head. "Or somebody used my picture for their fake ID? I'm so confused."

Chun-Li glanced up at him as she waited for the elevator to come. "I have to admit," she said, "you're a pretty good actor."

"I'm not acting," he mumbled, sounding completely defeated. "I won't keep insisting this. You won't believe me, for some reason, and I don't know what I did wrong, or why things are like this. I'm sorry."

That annoyed her for some reason. Again, she thought of a puppy who'd been scolded. He was confused but utterly dejected, like he couldn't figure out what he'd done to deserve such treatment, but felt guilty for it all the same. She wasn't convinced Vega knew what guilt was, so it was beyond strange seeing him this way. The elevator dinged, and she pulled on him again. "Come on," she said. He followed without protest.

She glanced at the numbers beside the doors. Finally finding the right one, she pulled out the key card, and slid it in the reader. It struck her that there was a slight possibility someone could already be here. Maybe some partner he'd been assigned by Shadaloo, back up, some kind of coordinator, a trainee, or, worst of all, some victim of his. She pushed the door open slowly, bracing for the worst. But no, the room was quiet and empty. She kept her hand tightly on his wrist, though she knew it wasn't completely necessary. He seemed to be following her without any resistance or indication that he was ready to run. She pushed the bathroom door all the way open, finding no one behind it or the shower curtain. "Sit there," she ordered, nodding to the floor beside the tub. It'd worked well in her room, as the rest of the room offered nowhere to really restrain someone. She supposed that made sense, as hotels weren't really built with that sort of thing in mind.

She expected a protest, but he did what she said without a word. She pulled his free arm back to meet the other one, leaving him in much the same condition as she had in her own bathroom. Once she was done looking for any sign of some plot or assignment of his, she'd let him loose. She couldn't keep him tied up forever, but wanted to get as much out of him as she could before letting him go.

He was quiet while she searched his room, and that was unexpected but welcome. She thought he'd give up on the act once she got him here. She dug through his bag. Just clothes, a phone adapter, a book. There was a plastic grocery bag. Toothpaste, a toothbrush, fingernail clippers, nothing terribly unusual in it. She looked under the bed. Nothing. She lifted both mattresses, tore away all the sheets, looked behind the dresser, in every drawer, and still, there was nothing out of the ordinary. She came to the closet. There wasn't anything in it. She walked back over to the closest bed, and dropped onto it, wracking her brain. She knew he was up to something, he just had to be. That paper in his wallet had declared some kind of danger. What did it mean? Who was he after? How could she stop him? His phone was still in her pocket, and she glanced at it. No one had tried contacting him yet. Would that change if she had him tied up still when his failure to complete his assignment was noticed? Was he even here for Shadaloo anyway? She sighed. Of course he was, he had to be. It couldn't just be a coincidence that she'd been called to New York to help with a Shadaloo-related problem and Vega was in the city at the same time.

A growling noise in her stomach made her hand fly to her abdomen, and she frowned. Maybe she'd been ignoring her own needs with all of this work she'd thrown herself into. She had a bad habit of skipping meals when working on something particularly engrossing. She guessed he'd need to eat to, or else he'd just get irritable and difficult to work with. Not that he was _easy _to work with, exactly, but she definitely didn't want to make it any harder on herself than it had to be.

She pushed herself off of the bed, grabbed the thin hotel information book off the desk, and walked back to the bathroom. He'd been waving his feet back and forth, tapping the toes of his shoes together, and he stopped when he saw her. She raised her eyebrows and he looked down, obviously embarrassed. "Maybe you're good at hiding things," she admitted. "But sooner or later, someone's going to call for you, and I want to be here when they do." It'd be some pretty solid proof against him, to be able to record a call between him and Shadaloo. "So in the mean time, I'm a little hungry and I guess you have to eat, too." She flipped open the book, finding the room service menu, and she held it out at arms' length to him. "Pick something."

"Aren't you getting the shrimp?" he said in a sort of playful, mocking manner. Like he was goading her on.

She felt her nostrils flare, not liking the way he said it. "Why would you ask that?"

"Because according to you, shrimp are the roaches of the ocean, and you can see their poo when you eat them. That sort of thing."

She gritted her teeth to keep back a shocked expression. He somehow knew shrimp really, really grossed her out. She ate a number of things the average westerner thought was unappetizing, but for some reason, shrimp was a line she refused to cross. So how did he know that, down to the comment about them being like roaches? "Pick something already or starve," she snapped, maybe showing a little too much annoyance. She didn't like the idea that he knew anything about her. Didn't like that she had no idea how he figured something like that out. She tried to tell herself that it was just a coincidence, or maybe he'd heard someone else say it before.

"Fine. Grilled cheese," he said, nodding at the menu.

She snorted. "I thought people like you only ate pheasant or foie gras at every meal, presented artistically and with glasses of obnoxiously expensive wine."

"Look," he said back, irritation creeping into his voice. "I'm very stressed out. Very confused. I don't know what's going on. You, the one person I think of as being able to totally trust, have suddenly decided you hate me. You won't even call me by my own _name. _Everything right now is approaching horrible. Yes, maybe it's childish...but I want a grilled cheese."

She shrugged. "Suit yourself." He could eat whatever he wanted, she didn't care that much. She left the bathroom, glancing over the menu herself as she paced slowly around the room. She finally settled on a sandwich, and placed the order. Charge it to the room, of course. He owed her that much for babysitting him like this, even if it ended in his arrest. There was plainly something wrong with him, beyond the usual issues, so she was probably doing him a favor keeping him cooped up in here.

In about twenty minutes, there was a knock at the door. She made sure to close the bathroom door before taking in the food. It might be quite upsetting for one of the hotel employees to come in and see a man handcuffed in the bathroom. One of the plates felt pretty warm, so she knew it was his. She brought it to him, set both plates down, and rearranged the restraints so he'd have at least one free hand to eat with.

"I bet I know what yours is," he said as she picked up her own plate. She raised an eyebrow, allowing for him to continue. "Turkey club, with avocado and arugula if you have it, and please no mayonnaise, mustard on the side."

"So you just heard me on the phone out there," she said, unimpressed.

"What? No, I heard, blll mmmm blll," he said, making humming and bawwing noises, somewhat like a muffled voice.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not impressed. You can just eavesdrop. Not surprised."

"You're so stubborn," he muttered, glancing down at his plate and pulling off the cover.

"Why do you keep talking to me like that?" she asked, more frustrated than angry at this point.

He shrugged. "That's how I always talk to you. It seems like it works."

"What do you mean?" She sat down on the lid of the toiled, balancing her plate in her lap. She wanted to get her meal out of the way, but also wanted to hear the answer.

He swallowed the food he was eating. "Oh. I just meant, I guess you wouldn't still be with me after all this time if you minded how I spoke."

"I'm not 'with you'," she corrected. "Never have been, never will be."

He hummed as he shook his head. "Well, I promise, you were. For five years. I don't know what I did to make you hate me so much, but you used to, at least, _not _hate me."

"Why do you think that? When have I ever given you that impression?" She took a bite of her own food. Arugula and avocado and all.

"When I first talked to you." He raised his eyebrows. "I never had to drink a few beers before talking to a woman before, but you were so beautiful I thought for sure you'd laugh at me for even speaking to you."

"Is that a joke?" she snapped. Much as she hated him, she realized how attractive he was. If someone didn't know about the darker side to his personality, she could see him as the kind of man who got any woman he wanted. Being sort of a celebrity helped, but even if he didn't have that going for him, she could see it. What she couldn't see, though, was him at the sort of bars people on her financial level would ever be patrons of, and she certainly couldn't picture him with a beer. He was just making all of this up as he went along, she was sure of it.

"What? No. I mean, I think I have a pretty healthy perspective on myself," he answered with a shrug of his shoulders. She laughed out loud and he sighed. "I know I'm not a bad-looking guy, is what I meant, but I know you're in another class entirely."

She felt her face burning red and she hated it. She knew he'd find it amusing, and she didn't want him to. Nothing he had to say should seem flattering, even if he sounded genuine. He was a liar and a fake, that was all. He was trying to disarm her again, but she wouldn't let him. "As long as you know," she spat back, giving him a taste of his own medicine with some arrogance of her own. She didn't think of herself as some untouchable beauty, though, and was generally pretty down to Earth about her looks. Perhaps the complete opposite of him, who couldn't get his head out of his ass.

He smiled sheepishly. "Yes, well, I do know. All of my friends kept saying I should ask you out. After maybe a month, I think, I got the courage to write you that letter in bad Mandarin. You wrote me one in bad Spanish. It was cute."

"I'm going to lose my appetite," she muttered, taking her plate and leaving him alone. She heard him sigh quietly as she left. What was she supposed to do, sit in there and listen to that? Some story cribbed from the romantic comedy 101 playbook? Whatever his deal was, his stories and mannerisms were becoming too unsettling for her to humor anymore. She sat on one of the beds, reached for the remote to provide herself a distraction. Before she could turn on the television, she heard an odd noise.

Her brows drew together at the sort of fluttering sound coming from above her. It was like a bag being rustled by a breeze. She looked over at the plastic bag on the floor with the toiletries in it, but it wasn't moving. She glanced up. There was a vent. Pressing her lips together, she abandoned her sandwich, and dragged the small table so that it was positioned directly beneath the vent. She climbed onto it, having to stand on the tips of her toes to reach it. There were two screws on either side, and she couldn't undo them with her fingers. She glanced back down, looking over the items in the room. There was a pen cap, but that was probably too flimsy. She sighed, knowing something was in that vent. Whether it was just some trash that happened to find its way to this room, or something else, she couldn't say until she opened it.

She suddenly remembered the pair of fingernail clippers in the grocery bag. Jumping down, she fished them out, and unfolded the thinnest component. She climbed back up on the table, stood on her toes, and unscrewed the vent. There, even in the dim light, she could see something. A black bag, an edge fluttering as warm air passed over it. She gritted her teeth as she stretched as far as she could, but it was just out of reach. He was about seven inches taller than her, and probably could've reached it. She wasn't going to let him out of the bathroom until she knew what she'd found, though. She jumped, hand brushing the bag, but not quite grabbing it.

"Hey, are you okay?" she heard him ask. The sudden thud of her feet against the table seemed to have startled him.

"Peachy keen" she answered, the last word becoming strained as she jumped again. She grunted as she leapt up one more time, this time her fingers digging into the bag. There was a ripping noise as tape peeled away from inside of the vent, and some dust rained out of it. She brushed it away from her face, and wriggled her nose to keep from sneezing. She had the bag in her hands, and was a little surprised at just how heavy it was. Feeling pretty confident now that she'd gotten what she wanted, she returned to the bathroom to show him she wasn't so easily deterred as he thought.

She sat cross-legged on the floor, and looked at him. He looked back, but didn't seem nervous or agitated. Just confused. "What do you think is in here?" she asked politely, pulling some of the tape off of it.

He shook his head. "I don't know," he answered. "Should I?"

"Don't you get it already? You're caught. It's over. This is going to be all the evidence I need to put you away for the rest of your life."

He took in a sharp breath, and seemed genuinely afraid. "I don't know what you think I did, but I swear to God, I didn't."

She ignored him. He'd say whatever he had to in order to avoid prison. She opened the bag and reached in. The first thing that came out was another bag. In it, the black uniform he wore on Shadaloo-ordered missions was folded neatly. She felt over it, but it was all just cloth. She pulled out something else. It was hard and wrapped in a plain white cloth. She unraveled it, revealing that white, featureless mask he always wore. It drew a reaction from him, and she looked up quickly. He was staring at it, shock and confusion written on his face. So she held it up to face him. "So you recognize that?" she asked, relieved that he'd finally let up on the game he was playing.

He nodded slowly. "It was my mother's," he said in a slow, halting voice. "You know that. Or you did."

"What?" She had never thought much about where the mask had come from.

"She had a few masks like this. Venetian carnival masks. I told you how that one always sort of...frightened me as a kid. It was the only one that didn't have a mouth, and I couldn't think of anything scarier than to be silenced like that. To never be able to express yourself, to never have anyone listen to you. Just you and your thoughts." She stared at him as he spoke, trying to tell herself that he was just playing with her. But he seemed so genuine. It sounded like a pretty intimate thought to admit to, and he didn't hesitate to tell her about it, as if he held some deep trust in her. Finally, after a moment of silence passed between them, he asked, "Where did you get it? I thought I gave it away when she died."

"It's not mine," she said quickly. He wasn't going to implicate her in owning this. "It's yours."

He shook his head, apparently willing to concede that point for now. "So why is it here?"

"You know why," she asserted, reaching into the bag and pulling out the next item. It was also wrapped up, but considerably heavier. She pulled the cloth away, and he stared at it. The mask seemed to surprise him, but the claw outright frightened him.

"What the hell is that?" he whispered.

"Don't act like you don't know," she said. "Like I said, Vega, it's over. You can pretend all you like, but we both know what you're here to do, and you aren't getting away with it."

He shouted in Spanish suddenly, startling her, and she thought he was finally giving up. He shook his arms frantically, the handcuffs clanging and ringing noisily against the hand rail, and she waited for him to calm down. "I'm! Not! Vega! I don't know what happened to you! To me! You have to stop and think! Okay, just think, remember-" He groaned again, putting his head back against the wall, eyes squeezing shut. His voice fell, and he sounded so pathetically desperate. "Please. Chun-Li, think. You think I killed someone?" He laughed, short, ironic. "I can't even lay mouse traps, it makes me feel so guilty."

She watched him as he spoke. She couldn't let him make her doubt herself. It didn't matter how convincing he sounded, how sad, how confused. He was a complete psychopath, and would do whatever it took to get out of trouble. She wrapped everything back up and returned it to the bag. "I know it's tough going from playboy to prisoner, but you'll adjust," she said.

He mouthed the word 'playboy', plainly confused. "Who do you think I am?" he asked, voice rising. "Can you at least give me that?"

She laughed. "Where do you want me to start?"

He started to say something, but a noise made him stop. She felt her heart skip a beat, and she kept completely still, afraid to even breathe. His wide eyes locked onto hers as they both realized the same thing. They were no longer alone.

* * *

quick note regarding the mask belonging to his mother-i can't remember if that is something i saw in an SVC Chaos comic(I have this picture in my head of a panel showing vega's mom and there are a few masks on the wall behind her, but maybe i'm making it up D: ), or if it was something suggested in a conversation with a user on this site. if it's the latter, and you happen to be that user, let me know and i can give you a credit here or take it out of the fic, if you'd prefer. thanks again to everybody reading and reviewing :)


	4. Chapter 4

She took in deep, even breaths through her nose. "Who did you call?" she said, barely loud enough to be considered a whisper. It was her first instinctive reaction, that he'd called for back up. But no, that wasn't possible. She'd had his phone from the get-go, and he hadn't had any other method of contacting anyone.

"No one!" he whispered back.

Quiet footsteps drew closer. She looked around the room. The claw lay discarded on the floor. Could she risk letting him loose with that deadly weapon within his reach? No. This could be it, the trap set for her. To be lured back to his room, to be cornered and overpowered. It was one possibility, so she wouldn't let him go just yet. Whoever these people were, they probably weren't good news. She moved slowly, trying to avoid making any noise. She quietly put a hand on the door handle, crouching behind it. He watched, terror in his eyes, and had she ever seen him afraid of anything? She tried not to let him distract her, focusing on the sound of the footsteps on the carpeted floor in the room.

Her heart was racing, but she forced herself to remain calm. She'd dealt with some pretty tough people in her line of work, had been outnumbered before. The footsteps were closer now, she stared through the small crack between the door and the wall. Closer. A shadow passed through that sliver. She tensed, tightened her grip on the knob. Heard them stop, saw Vega look over to the threshold, jaw clenched, eyes wide. "Well," she heard someone mutter, and there was a clear hint of suspicion in his voice. "That's a freebie."

"Shit, shit, no-" Vega started to say, head shaking frantically as he tried to scramble away. She heard the distinct sound of the slide of a handgun being drawn back, she gritted her teeth.

There were two noises in quick succession. She slammed the door closed, trapping the gunman's outstretched arm tightly against the threshold, and he screamed. The gun fired shortly after, and, though equipped with a silencer, was still no fun to hear. She wrenched it free just as one of the men pushed back against the door. A glance at Vega told her he wasn't dead. He could be hurt, dying, but now wasn't exactly the best time to try to play doctor. If she left him restrained, he was a sitting duck. If she let him go, he might try to kill her after finishing off these two intruders. The terrified look on his face made her take a chance. As she backed away from the opening door, she dug in her pocket, tossing the keys to the cuffs at him. He didn't have to be told what they were for.

She kept her attention on the men, kicking the first in the face as soon as he stepped in the room. She pivoted her foot, and brought her leg back in the other direction. It hit the second man in the cheek. She had to get that gun away from him. One more time, she pivoted, but this time caught him by the back of the neck with her leg. Throwing her arms out to counter the weight, she pulled hard, the man's upper body coming down from the force she applied. The other one returned to the fray, and she felt a pain in her side when he hit her. His head snapped to the side suddenly, having been punched in the jaw by Vega. She noted the way he winced and shook out his hand afterwards, as though that had hurt him just as much as the guy he'd punched. With a cry, she put all her weight into the back of the man's neck even as he struggled against her, and brought them both to the ground.

She saw the white mask skitter across the floor, kicked away accidentally by Vega as he tried to escape the grip of the first assailant. The man had his arm tightly around Vega's neck and was dragging him backwards against his will. She tried to watch both at once, but the man she had pinned under her was the priority. He was still armed. She was suddenly flipped onto her back, halfway out into the hall. With a quick motion, she was back on her feet. Her opponent wasn't stupid enough to try to grapple with her, realizing she was a little tougher than he thought. A fatal assumption made by most of the men she ended up squaring off against. Suddenly, the sound of something shattering drew both of their attentions back towards the others. One of the plates the food had been brought on was in pieces on the ground and...Was that Vega, Shadaloo's deadliest assassin, doing his best to shove a half-eaten toasted cheese sandwich into his assailant's face? What did he hope to accomplish by doing that? She couldn't waste time wondering about it, utilizing every second of the distraction instead. She rushed her opponent, grabbed him at the wrist with her free hand. She spun towards him, her back to him when she drove her elbow into his gut. Her foot moved quickly, tripping up one leg, then the other. She yanked hard on his wrist as he stumbled, pulling him forward, and he face-planted into the tile.

She wasn't an executioner, and wasn't willing to shoot either of them unless it was absolutely necessary for her safety. But they didn't know that. With one foot pressed against the man's wrist, she pointed the gun at his face. "Drop your wea-" she started to order, but was interrupted when something collided with her. She fell, half of her still on the men below her, and she groaned irritably when she realized it was Vega who was on top of her. Perfect timing on his part. She tensed her legs, trying to keep the man pinned while Vega pushed himself off of her. "Get his gun!" she demanded and he looked too bewildered and shocked to react. The lack of response from him gave the first man all the time he needed, and she heard Vega gasp when he was kicked in the ribs. It was great that the one time she wanted him to fight, he seemed completely oblivious.

She growled as the one still standing fixed his eyes on her. He drew back his leg, but she wasn't as much of a pushover. Pulling her legs up, she swung them hard, trapping his leg between hers at the knee. One foot dug into his back, her other leg wrapped around his, and as he came down, she pulled herself up. She elbowed the other man, still beneath her but struggling to crawl away, and she saw his mistake as he put his palms flat against the ground for support. The gun was still under his hand, but he wasn't gripping it tightly anymore. She made her move, releasing her legs from the other man, and kicking at the gun. The guy drew his hand back quickly, the weapon spun away before colliding noisily with the wall as it disappeared beneath the sink. That left one weapon, and it was in her hands.

"Up," she ordered, keeping the weapon level and steady. "Hands on your heads."

Maybe it'd been naive to expect they'd cooperate. And maybe she hadn't been as perceptive as she thought about the number of weapons in the room. There was a flash of metal, razor-sharp, and she jumped back, hip hitting the sink. She cursed herself for being so careless and forgetting about the claw. It wasn't Vega swiping it at her, but the first man she'd disarmed. He was holding it in both hands, using it more like a set of knives, clearly unsure of how to wield them. That'd be an advantage. But he stood between herself and the bathroom door now, leaving her trapped in here with them. "We're not done here yet," the man said, voice slightly muffled by the covering on his face.

She glanced past the man, surprised to see Vega was still there even though he had a clear shot at freedom. The door was in arm's reach. She saw the muscles of his jaw tighten, like he was really working himself up to something before he squeezed his eyes shut and threw himself at the guy with the claw. It was the most graceless maneuver she'd ever seen in her life. Arms wrapped tightly around the man's waist, the two hit the door and fell in a heap. She slid away to the side, slamming the pistol in her hand into the side of the remaining man's head. He stumbled back, she kicked him in the stomach. He doubled over, she kneed him in the jaw. With a cry of '_kikoken!'_ she focused, and he stumbled back into the wall from the force of it. His eyes rolled back into his head, and he dropped.

She spun quickly, knowing the fight wasn't over yet. There was an odd rhythm as Vega repeatedly cried, "_¡Mierda__!"_ immediately followed by the sound of metal glancing off the tile, or into the carpeted floor. She caught sight as the man drove the claws about where Vega's groin had been. With the speed expected of a man whose genitalia had just been threatened, he pushed himself back and spread his legs as wide as they would go. The claws found a home in the floor instead. Why wasn't Vega tearing this guy apart? Not that she thought the man should die, but it certainly wasn't Vega's style to leave a man who attacked him alive. Instead he was frantic, trying to push himself away and never quite making it back up to his feet. Like he had no idea how to respond to the situation. He finally hit a wall and the color drained from his face as his eyes flew wide. The man drew back his arm, ready to bury those claws in his target.

Chun-Li caught the crook of his elbow with the back of her leg, pulling it back painfully. She quickly drew up her other foot, smashing it into the side of the man's head before planting it into the ground again. He fell to the ground from the force of the blow, in a daze. She moved in fast for another blow. His eyes rolled around in his head briefly before his lids slid shut. Both of them watched him for a moment.

"They were going to kill us!" Vega blurted, utterly terrified, gasping breaths. "What the hell is going on!"

"You were afraid of them," she said quietly, brow furrowed as she studied him.

His eyes widened a little, like she'd just said something a bit dumb. "Yes," he said slowly, climbing to his feet. "They had guns and were trying _to kill us._"

"Doesn't usually stop you."

"I'm not usually around guns and murderers!"

He wasn't acting. Vega was much too self-important to put whatever act he may have been ordered to carry out ahead of his own safety. She couldn't use that as an excuse anymore. Had Bison done something to him? Maybe erased his memory somehow? If so, why? Bison didn't fire people from Shadaloo-he executed them. So what was she supposed to do with Vega now? He wasn't useful if he was so unaware of everything he was supposed to be. "Who are they?" she asked, nodding to the unconscious man on the floor.

"I don't know!" he exploded. "Will you _stop _acting like I have any idea what's happening here?"

She ignored his outburst, still a little confused by his behavior. This wasn't the Vega she knew and hated anymore. So what did that make him? She glanced over at him, his eyes wide and staring at the man, one hand tangled in his hair. Frightened, apparently. He should've been able to kill them with his bare hands. Not that she wanted that to happen, exactly, but it was the more characteristic reaction from him. She crouched next to the intruder, and she felt a hand on her arm. She jerked away without thinking, looking back at him.

"Be careful," he said. His eyes flicked back to the man before settling on hers again. He was worried. For her. She cringed, turning her attention back to identify the man. He was dressed for a tough fight. Kevlar vest. Helmet, mask over the lower half of the face. To hide an identity, or for protection? If these people were here to kill Vega, then definitely for protection. The hard, black gauntlets on his arms corroborated that notion. She caught sight of a patch sewn into the shoulder of the uniform. Something like an eye fused with an aiming reticle.

"S.I.N.," she mumbled, more to herself than him as she returned to the bathroom. She studied the other unconscious man's uniform, and the same insignia was on his sleeve as well. She closed her eyes briefly, putting a hand to her head.

"What?"

"These men were sent here by S.I.N." She pressed her lips together, not at all liking what that meant she'd just gotten herself into by fighting them.

"What is that?"

She was done challenging him and expecting him to behave normally. There was no sense in fighting him every step of the way when it was plain he was genuinely amnesiac-or something along those lines. "It _was _a branch of Shadaloo, the weapons division. When Akuma killed Bison, Seth took command of S.I.N. Loyalties were divided between it and Shadaloo, and one organization became two. But Seth didn't realize Bison was back from the dead."

He blinked once before staring at her. "I'm sorry, what channel do they air this soap opera on? When does the evil twin come in?"

She frowned as she thought of Decapre and Cammy. He wasn't so far off the mark, but that was a story for another time. "Yeah, it's quite a drama you guys have going on over there," she said. "You, if my information is correct, were contracted by S.I.N. soon after Bison's alleged death. They didn't realize you were acting as a plant for Shadaloo, and you sabatoged one of their main bases."

He laughed and shook his head. It was all absurd, as far as he was concerned. He definitely wasn't some top secret agent or spy. "You make me sound like...terrorist James Bond or something."

She bit back a remark about him being more Bateman than Bond. "Well, I'm just telling you how it is, since you can't seem to remember," she said. "You tried to kill me, so trust me, _I _remember."

"I would never-" He sounded incredibly indignant about that, repulsed by the very notion that he would try to harm her.

"Don't bother," she said, cutting him off. "It wasn't the first time and I'm sure it won't be the last." She tried not to think about it. The very fact that she was sitting here and talking to him like a normal person was a testament to her incredible patience. She'd had a lot of sleepless nights because of him. Nightmares of him succeeding where he'd failed in reality. It took a lot to stand here in the same room with him, to talk to him without disgust edging into her voice. "The point is, Bison eventually revealed himself to Seth. Soon after, Seth was killed by one of his own subordinates, Juri Han. So far as we know, she's still in power. And..." She looked back to the body of the S.I.N. agent. "And she's apparently got a bit of a grudge. "

Vega put his hands over his face, briefly rubbing his closed eyes with his fingers. He pulled them away with a laugh before saying, "This is insane."

"Welcome to your life," she said, shrugging.

"What do I do?" he asked, and it was her turn to stare.

"Why do you think I would ever help you?" she asked.

"Because-" he started to say, then stopped himself. Some realization seemed to strike him, and his face fell. "I guess that isn't true anymore," he muttered to himself. But then he shook his head. "Even if you don't love me, I know you. You're a good person, and you wouldn't just leave somebody to die." He looked over at the unmoving body on the floor, and nodded towards it. "And you know that's what will happen to me if you don't help."

"I've got news for you," she said, her voice rising a bit. She didn't like the way he kept assuming he knew her and saying what she would and wouldn't do. "I don't like you. I don't often say the word hate, but I'd go so far as to use it with you. You're a murderer, sadistic, even. I would never in my life kill someone unless there was no other option. But I'm not going to save someone like _you. _Whatever happens to you, you've had it coming."

"That's _not _me," he insisted. "Look me in the eye and say you think that's who _I _am."

"Vega-"

"No, not Vega," he said sharply. He didn't look angry, but determined. He was so sure he could convince her. She felt her brows relax a little as she looked at him. He was different, but how? Why? And did it even matter? Whatever had changed, would he just change right back? It felt completely wrong and against every moral fibre of her being to even entertain the notion of helping him in any way. No, she didn't _want_ him to die. But that was just a basic decency she afforded to everyone. If he was killed, she wasn't exactly going to mourn him. "Come on," he said.

Her lips pulled back. "Don't you understand the position I'm in?" she said, waving a hand. "Regardless of whatever strange thing went on in your head, you have to realize that before today, even if you don't remember it, even if you are convinced that it's not who you are, you, this person," she grabbed him by the sleeve and shook lightly, "has killed. Those hands have ended lives. I can not, will not, help someone like that."

"And I'm _not _someone like that. At all," he said.

"You have no way of proving that to me," she said nonchalantly. She stepped away from him, leaving him to stare at the place she'd just been standing. He could beg and plead all he wanted, but she couldn't forgive herself if she went through with helping him and enabled the deaths of any more people if he should suddenly snap back to reality. She scooped up the discarded handcuffs, and pressed her lips together. Something had to be done about these two men. Leaving them to wake up would mean fighting them all over again. She'd taken enough of a risk in engaging in that conversation with Vega, giving them time to wake back up. She left the bathroom, only to find that the other man had already done just that. She cursed under her breath, seeing the opened window, the curtains being pulled outward by a breeze. So one had escaped, and was likely to tell Juri-or whoever had sent them-about her interference. That's just what she needed right now, for Juri Han to be biting at her heels again. She checked over the room to be sure the man had actually run off, a part of her relieved to find it empty and a part of her worried over what that meant for her.

She returned to the bathroom, snorting as she glanced at Vega. He was still thinking, apparently, lips set in a line and brows drawn together as he stared at the sink. As she pulled the unconscious man towards the tub, she started to rehearse a conversation in her head. To explain the break-in and attack. To suggest that maybe the heightened activity had to do with both S.I.N. and Shadaloo. The only hiccup was figuring out what to say about Vega. The mask, claw and-

The claw? She rushed back out into the room, looking everywhere for it. She even looked in the garbage bin, under the beds, but it was gone. She took in a deep breath to try to keep calm. But because she'd been distracted by Vega's sudden personality change, not only had a S.I.N. agent escaped arrest, he'd taken a vital piece of evidence required for forming a case against Vega with him. She let the breath out in a heavy sigh, closing her eyes briefly as she paced the room for a moment. There was no getting that back now, and would the mask and uniform alone be enough? The clothes were just plain black, nondescript. No patches or insignia like these two men had been wearing.

Frustration mounting, she walked back to the bathroom with heavy steps. Maybe a little rougher than was usual, she took hold of the unconscious man's arms, yanking them behind his back.

"I can prove it," Vega said suddenly.

She looked up after snapping the cuffs around this man's wrists. She only had the one pair, so she had to take her chances with an unrestrained Vega. Whatever his deal was, he didn't appear to be a threat. For now. Restraining both of them with the same pair of cuffs would probably end in one of them killing the other. Not exactly ideal. "What are you talking about?" she asked, already having forgotten what he was referring to. She had a whole new host of problems to be worried over now.

"I can prove I'm not who you think I am," he said.

She sighed as she looked down at the S.I.N. agent. "I don't know that I have time for this. This man-" She stopped, considering whether or not to mention Vega as well. She decided against it, thinking even if he wasn't behaving normally, most people would try to evade arrest, especially if they were so convinced they'd never committed a crime. "This man needs to be arrested."

"It won't take a lot of time," he said.

"What then?"

"We talk," he said. "We just talk."

She was ready to tell him that nothing he could say could possibly prove anything. People like him were great liars and fakes. They knew how to play a part, and they knew what was expected of them. She'd read up on people with similar psychological profiles as him. Sociopaths and narcissists who could lie their way through psychiatric assessments and pass themselves off as completely normal to trained professionals. Words alone weren't going to be enough. There had to be some concrete way to explain what was going on with him, but she wasn't sure what that was yet. "Why do you think I'll believe anything you have to say?"

"Maybe you will, maybe you won't, but it's fair, right? To give me a chance?"

Finally, she sighed. "Okay. You get your talk. If I'm not convinced by it, that's it. No more chances." He nodded, accepting her terms. She had no idea what to expect from this conversation, but she still followed him as he walked back out into the room.


	5. Chapter 5

"Okay," he said, no hint of hesitation as he paced back and forth in front of the bed. "When you were eight, you wanted to marry Jackie Chan."

She blushed furiously and stared for a second. What did he think he was doing? And how did he know that? "So you can name one of the most famous Chinese actors ever. Good for you," she said, quickly dismissing the statement. Was this how he thought he was going to prove himself to her?

He wasn't deterred. "Your favorite color is blue. Your favorite game is Go. You like frozen yogurt better than ice cream because there are fewer calories, and you get annoyed when I point out that it doesn't matter when you put all of these..." he rubbed his thumb over the pads of his fingers, "sprinkles and candies on it."

She wasn't ready to concede defeat yet. Maybe he was stalking her and noticed some patterns. It didn't take a genius to realize she wore a lot of blue or to guess a Chinese person might play Go. The part about the dessert was a little troubling, but she didn't want to admit it yet. She kept her resolve. "Good guesses."

"It bothers you when people refer to you as 'exotic', and you hate when people reduce Chinese culture to 'panda bears and eggrolls'. When you were ten, your cat-" he hesitated, closing his eyes as he stumbled through the pronunciation, "Xiaobai died and you wrote a letter to him saying you wished you had given him more attention. You left it, along with a handful of cat treats, on his grave. When you were twelve, you broke something of..." Again he paused, briefly closing his eyes and holding a hand to his forehead while he thought. "...a guy named Gen's, was he your uncle or something? I can't remember. I think it was some old, hand-painted vase that you kicked a ball at. You thought about blaming it on your cousin who was with you at the time, but even that made you feel so guilty you told on yourself."

Some things were a bit wrong. Her cat had died when she was eleven, and it wasn't her cousin who she tried to blame breaking Gen's vase on, but a fellow student. The fact that he had even come close to describing such things astounded her, and she was left speechless. How would he know her childhood pet's name, let alone that she left treats on its grave? It wasn't the sort of thing she'd ever written down, or that could be looked up.

"When you're drunk, you sing Chinese pop songs, and are always going," he waved a hand, "'_Andres, say _naranjjja! _Andres, say _perrrro!' You laugh at everything, too, so I get to feel like a comedic genius. You like the woods better than the beach, so you weren't too impressed with Barcelona. You love kids but at the same time are afraid of having your own because it's a big responsibility and it's easy to mess up. You really look up to your dad and are hoping all the time that you're making him proud." She couldn't stop herself. The mention of her father coming from his lips drove her out of her inaction. She slapped him, hard.

"Don't you _ever _talk about him," she said through gritted teeth. He looked shocked, hand flying to his cheek. She thought for a moment he might snap out of it. But no, he looked pathetically apologetic, and still confused.

"I'm sorry," he said. "What did I do?"

"You think you're being so impressive," she said. "Sitting down here and telling me all about myself, like you're proving your point or something." Maybe this was what she'd agreed to let him do, but she hadn't honestly expected this. It was overwhelming, to hear him relay all of this information to her. It wasn't just the fact that he knew it, but also that it left her to desperately wonder _how _he knew it. To have such intimate thoughts and details of your own life spoken to you, out of the mouth of a man you hated, no less, was beyond surreal. It was frightening. But she didn't want him to know that, so she did what she was used to doing when it came to him, and got angry.

"Hey, it's okay," he said softly, and tried to put his hand on her cheek. She drew away, grabbed him by his wrist, and had him pinned against the desk in a flash, his arm twisted around behind his back. She heard him groan a little when his stomach hit the hard wood edge.

"Don't try to touch me!"

"Okay, okay, that hurts," he said in a strained voice.

"Good!" she cried, but let him go. She didn't take pleasure in hurting others, even people as disgusting as him. The situation had gone from a bit weird to outright bizarre in the space of a few sentences. It was one thing for him to be amnesiac, or for his personality to have gotten a little more tolerable. It was another thing entirely for him to know so much about her with no clear explanation how. "I don't know what your game is, and I don't care. You stay away from me, or I swear-"

"Chun-Li," he pleaded, and she hated hearing him say her name. He never called her by her name, always some irritating nickname or another, mocking her. Somehow, hearing her name was far worse than anything else he usually called her. That, with the sincerity in his voice, in his eyes as he looked to her for help, for understanding, left her somewhere between confused and furious. "I want to figure out what's going on," he said. "But I can't if you won't help me. You're all I have." She felt his fingers on the back of her clenched fist. Her eyes flicked from his down to her hand. He took hers in his tentatively, as if he knew it might make her angry again, but that he had to try all the same.

"You don't _have _me," she said, yanking her hand away and pointing a finger in his face. He looked pained by that, but stayed quiet. "Maybe I can concede that you're different. That something weird is going on. But whatever it is, you have to understand, I'm not _yours _and never will be. Got it?"

"I didn't mean to imply that I _own _you or-"

"Say you understand, or you're on your own," she said, unwilling to budge. She thought she'd been plenty accommodating to a man who'd tried to kill her. Twice.

After a bit of hesitation, he finally said, "Okay. I understand." Whether he really did or not, she couldn't truthfully say. But it was a start. She wouldn't be able to figure any of this out if he kept trying to convince her he was her lover. It was too disturbing to ignore.

She looked around the room, and found the hotel stationary on the desk. Writing things down helped to make them clearer to her. She didn't know, exactly, if it would work quite as well in a situation like this, but it was worth trying. Picking up the pen, she said, "Tell me exactly when things got confusing for you. You mentioned being in Chicago." She drew a line down the middle of the paper. "What's your last memory of it? When did you figure out you were in New York instead?"

"I remember going to take a shower." His hand came up to the back of his head, carding some of his hair. "I guess I don't remember getting out though. Just, suddenly I'm opening my eyes, sitting at this bar. There's-" He looked down, as if a bit ashamed or embarrassed or something. "Don't get mad, alright, but I was apparently buying some woman a drink. I didn't do anything with her, though."

She glared at him. "I don't care. Didn't you just tell me you understood that we _aren't _together?"

He nodded slowly. "Right. Sorry, it's hard to switch something off like that."

"Okay, fine, whatever," she muttered, trying to be patient. She jotted down the information. "So you're missing some unknown amount of time. You don't remember how you got to New York."

"Right."

"You were saying you were in Chicago to go to school, I think?" she asked, pen at the ready. Time to play spot the differences.

"To teach at a school, yes," he said. He watched as she wrote something in the left column, then in the right column. It was all in Chinese, which he couldn't read save for a few basic characters. "What are you writing?"

She tapped the left column with the pen. "Who you are," she paused, tapped the right column, "Who you suddenly think you are."

"It's not sudden," he insisted. Then he raised his eyebrows. "So what does it say in the left?"

Her eyes met his, and she wondered if it did him any good to say. But then, she thought, she'd already said quite a bit to him in that regard. "Shadaloo assassin. Matador." She idly drew the pen over the words as she read them.

"_Assassin,_" he repeated, almost with a laugh. "How does one _become _an assassin for a terrorist organization? What do you write on that resume?"

"I'm just explaining what I know," she said sternly, not wanting to debate every point with him. "I'm giving you a courtesy by not arguing about who you're saying you are. I'd like if you'd extend the same to me."

"Fine. It's just a little strange. A little. Even this matador stuff. My dad was a huge proponent of that law banning bullfighting in Catalonia. He despised it. He'd never let me get into something like that," he explained.

"Your dad," she repeated to herself, remembering the brief bit of research she'd done on Vega earlier that day. She jotted that down quickly. "And your dad and mom, they stayed married, right?"

"Yes..." he said slowly, a hint of suspicion creeping into his voice. "Why? What's different about that?"

She hesitated. Maybe it was a bit premature to commit to telling him what might not even be accurate information. No, she'd wait until she got her report in. "Not sure," she said. "I don't know that much about you."

He seemed like he was going to say something. Maybe press the issue. She realized the mistake she'd made in hinting at the dissolution of his parents' marriage. But he didn't question it further. She jotted a question mark next to what, for now, she assumed was the reality-that his parents had separated, that his mother had been killed by her second husband. "What else, what else?" she murmured to herself. There was the obvious. That he thought they were dating. She wrote 'hate each other' in the left. 'Not so much' in the right. She couldn't even commit the word 'dating' to paper, the thought too disturbing.

"Those S.I.N. guys, they don't exist," he said suddenly, nodding back to the bathroom.

She wrote it down. "How do you know?" S.I.N. didn't have the same reputation as Shadaloo did, since it had been a subsidiary.

"I keep up with news about Shadaloo." He glanced at her, and he looked sort of sheepish about it. Like admitting to whatever he was about to say would be embarrassing for him. "I...maybe sometimes, I have been keeping these books, and I put things about it in there. It was just a little interesting at first." He stopped, like he was gauging her reaction. "Then I just couldn't stop thinking about it. Sometimes, I'd read an article, and it felt wrong. Like the information they were providing wasn't what it should be. So I'd keep it, and correct it as best as I could and I don't really know why I did any of it to begin with."

"Can you give me a specific example?" she said, ignoring the way he cautiously explained himself. Like he was expecting her to take issue with him for his weird little hobby.

He nodded. "Those girls they use as their assassins? It felt like they shouldn't still be there. People would throw around the word 'brainwashed', meaning they were there against their own will. But I felt like they were supposed to have gotten free already." He snorted. "Maybe it's wishful thinking. Maybe I just feel bad for them."

It was her turn to be confused again. "The Dolls?" she said, just to confirm it.

"Yes."

"They _were_ freed, by Cammy." She paused for a minute, and begrudgingly added, "And you helped her, a bit." He had, at least, gotten them out of the crumbling base instead of leaving them to die. So there was some shred of basic human decency in him.

"Cammy," he repeated. "That's our cat's name."

She laughed, unable to stop herself. He raised his eyebrows, waiting for her to explain. "Sorry. That's just-if she knew that, I don't know if she'd be flattered or annoyed."

"Who?"

"Cammy White," she said. She cocked her head. "You know her. You're..." She kept herself from saying 'weirdly obsessed by her'. She couldn't call them friends, though. Cammy tolerated him, but Chun-Li thought it was more out of some misplaced sense of obligation. That maybe Cammy felt she owed him something for the fact that he hadn't left her to die in the wreckage of Shadaloo. Not exactly the healthiest way to start a friendship, Chun-Li thought. Cammy refused to reject him, dangerous as he was, and it was something that worried Chun-Li. It might eventually put her in more danger to stay in contact with him. "You saved her life," she said finally. It was the simplest, most straightforward way to put it.

He seemed utterly confused. "I don't even know who she is," he said.

Chun-Li stood up, searching through her phone. Still a little cautious of him, she approached warily, but held the screen out to face him. On it, there was a photo of Cammy. "You don't recognize her?"

He stared, and he didn't look confused so much as he did shocked. "No, I do," he said. His eyes flicked up to Chun-Li's. "Not-I mean-I-" He shook his head. "I've never seen her in person. I didn't even know if she really existed. I had dreams about her." She balked at that, imagining the kinds of dreams Vega might have about people. He seemed to notice her reaction, and he sighed. "Not like _that. _Just, you know, she's there. When it happened a few times, I was getting frustrated with it. I drew her, so I'd remember her if I ever saw her."

"What were the dreams about then?" she asked, jotting down the difference. That Cammy knew him one way, and didn't seem to know him the other.

"Just as random and weird as any dream might be." He shrugged. "But seeing her, I got the same feeling I did reading about Shadaloo. Like something should've been different, like she was important to me and I should be helping her somehow."

A sudden noise startled them both. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the soft blue glow of his phone's screen as it lit up. Both of them glanced at it. He didn't seem nervous, which made her wonder if he realized who could be calling. It was too late in Spain for it to be anyone having to do with his work as a matador. She looked over at him, and he seemed curious. "Answer it," she said, handing it to him.

He did, and she strained her ears to hear, not wanting to miss any pieces of the conversation. "Hello?" There was a pause as someone else spoke. "Ah...what?" he said into the phone and she had to suppress an irritated noise. He was going to make it obvious fairly fast to whoever he was speaking to that something was wrong with him. He wasn't even trying to pretend. "Did I do _what_?" She shook her head madly and he widened his eyes at her as if to ask what she wanted him to do about it. Suddenly his brows shot up and his hand went to his mouth. "_Puta mierda-!"_ He hung up quickly after that and she groaned.

"Who was it?" she asked.

"_P__or dios," _he muttered. "The guy from Shadaloo, Bison, why is he calling me, of all people?"

"You hung up on him?!" She covered her eyes with her hands briefly, trying to keep back the torrent of emotions that statement had threatened to let loose. If Bison had done something to change Vega, to make him unaware of his position within Shadaloo, why would he be trying to contact him? No, Bison was definitely not the one who did this to him, so she could mark that possibility off the list. "What did he say to you?"

"Asking if I finished something, asking for a report, ah, ah, I think I'm going to throw up," he said, pacing and holding a hand to his head. "Terrorist dictator, calling me, my God-"

"Stop it," she said, his nervous behavior making her just as anxious. The phone rang again and he groaned loudly. "You have to pretend you know what he's talking about," she said, determined to figure this out. Bison obviously expected Vega to have some information ready for him, and he wasn't going to let up until he got it. It would be out of character for Vega to not respond to him, and she thought maybe they could lie their way through this. She knew a good deal of what he was supposed to be like, so could she coach him through a conversation with Bison? She bit her tongue. It was absurd, but what other option did they have?

"Yes, I'll lie to the guy who overthrew Thailand's government, I'm sure that will end well for me," he said.

"Overthrew..." she repeated, not following. Sure, Shadaloo was a pretty big threat, but it was not anywhere near powerful enough to topple a government. She shook her head, but quickly jotted it down onto the paper, leaving another question mark next to it. She could try to figure it out later, but with Bison calling him, there wasn't time to dissect the statement. "Look, pay attention." She waved him over to the bed, and sat down closer to him so as to better hear the conversation. "I'm going to tell you what to say. Put the phone on speaker and answer him."

He stared at her, and for a moment the only sound was the chiming of the phone. Finally, he drew in a breath and muttered, "Can't fucking believe I'm doing this." He ultimately did what she asked, and answered the phone.

Immediately, an authoritative voice could be heard. "I don't have time for any of your foolishness. Give me a report, now."

Vega's face went pale and she thought his eyes would fall right out of his face if he opened them any wider. She thought for a moment, trying to decide how he should react. He looked to her expectantly, but was plainly nervous about this conversation. She remembered the men who attacked him, and decided it was the best route. They could be enough of a problem that they'd distract Bison from the report he sought. "Tell him about the break in," she mouthed, nodding to the bathroom.

"Sorry, ah...Mister..." She let her eyes close. They were screwed. Bison wasn't going to fall for this, given Vega's uncertain, halting explanation.

"Don't apologize," she whispered. "You're arrogant, you're the best and you know it, get angry!"

He pressed his lips together, and shook his head. "Sorry that while _you _were screwing around doing whatever it is...dictators do, _I _was being threatened by angry men with guns, in my own hotel room!" She put a hand over her mouth, trying to keep a sigh from escaping. Close, but not quite Vega. How could he be so different? So unaware?

"What in God's name are you talking about?"

"Pay attention," Vega snapped, and for a moment, it was like catching a glimpse of who he was supposed to be. "I'm not going to repeat myself. You fix this, or I quit." She shook her head frantically. That may have been a step too far, even for Vega. "Or I don't quit!" he corrected quickly, eyes staying on her for the right cues. "But I'll be pretty upset!" It was over. He couldn't do this.

There was silence from Bison, and she thought maybe he'd hung up. But then there was a small chuckle. "Vega. What is it you do for me again?"

Vega's eyes flicked up to hers, the question plain. "Assassin," she mouthed. "Arrogant, remember!"

He made a face, like she was the one making it up as she went along. But he said it anyway. "I'm an assassin, your best, obviously, that's why I'm here right now."

"What's your partner's name?" Bison asked. Vega looked to her again for answers, but she didn't have one. She racked her brain for the information, but came up short. So far as she knew, Vega didn't have a partner. Was it a trick question? Could she risk that assumption? The few seconds of uncertainty were enough for Bison to grow more suspicious. "Tell me, what are you in New York for, specifically?"

She clenched her jaw. She didn't have an answer, and neither did he. She thought the news of the attack would have been enough to distract Bison from the subject of Vega's initial assignment. But Bison was observant, and he saw right through this act. "I hear the pizza is meant to be good," Vega answered, completely defeated.

"This would be amusing if it weren't such a problem," Bison said. "Stay where you are. I'll be sending an operative to retrieve you shortly."

"Ah, maybe, I'd rather-"

"And to whoever is there with you, make it known to them that they will pay for the headache they've caused me. I don't look forward to the time I'll be obligated to waste undoing whatever it is they've done to you." She felt like her stomach was tying itself in knots. How did he know Vega wasn't alone? She kept quiet, unwilling to volunteer her presence since he seemed unsure about who was here exactly. The line went dead, and Vega looked at her.

"Sorry. I guess I screwed that one up," he said.

"It's not anything either of us could lie our way through," she admitted. "If I were you, I'd get out of here as quickly as possible."

"What?"

"He seems to think someone else has messed with your head," she said. "I don't know what the deal is with you. I don't really care that much either. But I'm not getting in the middle of a pissing match between Bison, Juri, and whoever did this to you."

"No, you can't leave me alone," he said. "I don't understand what's happening. Come on, Chun-Li, please."

"It's not my problem," she insisted. She didn't owe him anything, regardless of whether or not he'd had some sudden change of heart. As an informant, he was completely useless to her now, since he seemed to know so little about his own work. The longer she was with him, the higher the risk. Bison had already figured out someone was trying to help him lie through that conversation, and she didn't like the idea of him thinking she was the one who'd messed up the brain of one of his highest ranking officials.

He groaned, muttered something in Spanish. "People want to kill me, to mess with my head," he said, completely terrified. "I don't even know why. I'm not-" He waved a hand. "This is all wrong, this isn't who I am, okay?" He looked at her, and she frowned.

"I guess this is why you shouldn't get involved with terrorists," she said with a shrug of her shoulders.

"I'm not!" he cried. "I never have been! I'm supposed to teach college students how to draw and paint and design and-" His fingers disappeared into his hair and he made another groaning noise. His knuckles went white as he pulled at his hair, his teeth were gritted and bared, and he kept pacing in circles. "You can't abandon me, please! One wants to brainwash me, the other wants to kill me!"

"Like you've killed people," she shot back, finding it a little difficult to muster up sympathy for a murderer. Even if he had some kind amnesia, he'd still ended numerous lives and was a dangerous person. Whatever had been done to him, there was the chance it could be undone, and he'd go back to how he was before.

"God, no, I've never killed anyone! Why won't you believe me?" The small waste bin made a thunking noise as his foot connected with it, and it toppled on its side. He'd been upset before, but had been more or less calm and complicit. She couldn't wait around and expect him to keep it that way. It was time to get away from him, before he got violent. "I'm sorry," he said as he inhaled a long breath and held up his hands. "Maybe I shouldn't have done that. I'm pretty upset right now, sorry. Just, can't you even give me advice?"

"What do you want me to tell you?" she said, annoyed that he suddenly made it her responsibility to look out for him. "Bison is going to find you, if Juri doesn't first. What he does with you when that happens, I can't tell you. Probably figure out how to make you your old self again. Something nobody really should want and-" She stopped suddenly, the error of her plan to abandon him to fate hitting her all at once. If Vega had really somehow been turned into a more or less normal person, did she want that to be undone? Could she let Bison take him back and turn him into a psychotic, but highly effective, murderer again? Or was it something bound to change back regardless of her actions? The stakes were high on both sides of the issue. To leave him and possibly avoid provoking a conflict with Bison meant returning one of his best weapons to him. To keep him from Bison meant possibly nullifying a major threat. But at what cost? How far would Bison go to get Vega back? She thought of Cammy, and how eventually he just gave up on trying to retake her. Would the same hold true for Vega? There was only one way to find out.


	6. Chapter 6

She hadn't decided yet if this was part of her work, or distracting her from it. The reason she'd been brought here was to help deal with some heightened criminal activity. Now she was wondering if it was all a fluke. Some ploy on S.I.N.'s part to draw Vega out here to kill him. It didn't really surprise her that Juri wanted him dead. She despised Shadaloo and all things related to it. Vega was probably just one of several targets. The last thing she'd expect would be for Chun-Li to be cooperating with him. At least, until her own assassins got back to her about why one of them was sitting in a jail cell in New York and their target was still alive.

One S.I.N. agent had been arrested, and stayed dead quiet about everything. Chun-Li requested that she be informed if that changed. It was typical of the Shadaloo/S.I.N. set. They had much more to fear from their leaders than they did from any law enforcement. In a way, she was glad the man didn't have much to say. If he'd revealed why he'd been sent to kill Vega, then Chun-Li could seem like some accomplice for defending him. She knew that wasn't the case, but she had to admit it looked suspicious, especially since she didn't say a thing about Vega's work with Shadaloo. It was a risk, but one she felt compelled to take. His confusion was genuine, and she needed to figure out what had caused it, if it would be reversed, or if he could stay how he was. He seemed so averse to violence, being unable to even really throw a punch, let alone kill someone. If she could keep him that way, it might just benefit her in the long run, another step towards the dismantling of Shadaloo. A cleaner way to nullify him than letting him die, at least.

As far as the police report went, the break-in was suspected to be a part of a kidnapping. Probably to get him to pay his way to freedom, she remembered suggesting absent-mindedly. It felt so wrong to lie, especially for his sake. But leaving him in a jail cell would've been about the same as leaving him gift-wrapped on Juri or Bison's doorstep. He'd been advised to move to a different hotel. She remembered suggesting that the register not record his presence there for his own safety. She thought he'd ask where she was staying, had been ready to fight him tooth and nail on that front, but he left it alone, as per their earlier agreement. She'd help him, but only if he'd lay off on the 'I'm in love with you' thing.

Once that problem had been taken care of, she had to address the next one. Confirming with a third party that Vega's story, or his change in personality, seemed genuine. This wasn't the kind of talk she could have with just anybody. Other Interpol agents weren't aware of who Vega really was, and she couldn't afford to go around slandering someone like him without good evidence to back it up. But she had a few friends who knew the same things she did, and one of them happened to live close enough for it to not be an obstacle to meet with him. A quick call to Guile, and she had a meeting arranged. It was hard to be specific in the conversation. She hadn't mentioned Vega by name, afraid Guile would outright refuse to meet. So she'd just said she wanted him to help her with a cross-examination. It was the sort of thing a person wouldn't believe until they saw it with their own eyes. And she knew Guile was a bit on the stubborn and skeptical side. On the other hand, he also knew a thing or two about all of the bizarre, almost supernatural things that went on in Shadaloo that were treated like urban legends by the rest of the world. So his opinion on the matter would be particularly valuable to her, and maybe he could point out a flaw in Vega's story that she hadn't yet noticed.

A lot of her night had been consumed by that work. The rest of it was spent in a fitful sleep, vivid dreams waking her over and over. She was running, trying with all her might to avoid catastrophe after catastrophe. But in the end, her resistance didn't matter. Dreams were frustrating in that they seemed so silly to be afraid of the next day. But in the moments after waking alone in the dark, they seemed much more threatening.

Tired as she was, she forced herself awake at eight. She took a shower, and it was as agonizing experience as it'd ever been. Every time her eyes closed, she formed a picture in her head of someone ripping open the curtain and killing her. Maybe it would be with a gun. Maybe it'd be from sheer physical force. Maybe it'd be with a three-pronged claw mounted on someone's wrist. Showers used to be relaxing. Now they just made her feel vulnerable.

Even after leaving the steamy bathroom, she almost expected someone to be out there, waiting for her. Maybe Juri, sitting patiently on the bed, making a lewd comment before threatening her for interfering with her plans. Maybe Bison, swearing to kill her once and for all for time and time again having a hand in his ruin. Or maybe Vega, gone right back to his old self, mocking her for showing him any kind of mercy, because he wouldn't afford her the same favor. But no, of course none of that had happened. The room was empty. A comfort, in a way. She distracted herself from the paranoid thoughts, gathering her things for the day. There wasn't much. Double-check the phone was fully charged. Ensure she had a bit of cash in case of any emergencies. All of her cards and identification were in order. Her hand came to a stop over the stationary pad she taken with her back to her room. She ripped away the list of differences she'd written, folding it up and putting it in her pocket. Maybe she'd have to add to it, or reference it.

Something else caught her eye. On the page beneath her list, there was a little doodle. It was her, kicking someone in the gut. It looked closer to some kind of comic book page than anything particularly realistic, and she was depicted as... She squinted at it. What was that supposed to be, covering the top part of her face? It was like half of a mask, with pointy tips on top, and a cape flailing out haphazardly behind her. It looked vaguely familiar, but she was more concerned over whether or not he was mocking her or not to place it just yet. Her opponent's mouth was reduced to an 'o', a few lines acting as a rush of air from his lungs. It was one of the S.I.N. agents, she realized, and overhead it said something in Spanish: "_¡Soy la noche!_" Vega must've drawn it while waiting for her to finish up with her phone call to the police. She hadn't even noticed. She snorted, tried to memorize the Spanish. He'd better not have written anything crude about her. She wasn't going to cooperate with someone who was disparaging her. But then, what more could she expect out of Vega?

The assumption put her in a bit of a foul mood. She grabbed a cup of tea before leaving the building, hoping it'd make her feel better. It didn't. Who _would _be in a good mood if they had to face what she did today? Advising a murderer, one who'd threatened you personally, on how best to keep himself safe from _other _murderers. It was absurd. She tried to keep telling herself that it could be for the greater good in the long run. At the same time, it was a little unfair to all the people he'd killed. He'd just get to walk away from any kind of repercussions because he couldn't remember his crimes. Again, the comparison to Cammy wiggled its way in among her thoughts, and she sighed quietly to herself. Cammy was different, it was an entirely other bizarre issue. She deserved a shot at a clean slate. Vega had his, and he chose to throw it away.

The walk to his hotel wasn't as long as it could've been. A walk across the park, quite literally. That didn't make it any less cold. She exhaled through her nose, getting a little annoyed with her own attitude. It was hard to muster up positive feelings when she was going to meet with him. If it'd been a friend she was heading towards, not a guy who'd broken into her apartment and nearly left her bleeding to death, she would've been a bit more upbeat. She hated to be in a negative mood, though, and tried to think of him as work. Part of the job. A witness in need of relocation and advice, not the guy who laughed like he'd heard a great joke after locking her in a room that was quickly filling with toxic fumes. She closed her eyes briefly. Just a witness. Not Vega. Some other guy. Some guy who thought it made sense to smear his assassin's face with a cheese sandwich. Her lips twitched up at the image, and she opened her eyes again.

She was right on time. Punctuality was a trademark of hers, something her coworkers had even commented on. When it came to work, she liked to get things done, no dragging her feet. She'd looked up how long it took to take the walk across Central Park, west towards the Hudson, to his hotel. She'd left right on time, and got there right on time. He was supposed to meet her in the lobby at nine-thirty. So, after a few minutes of waiting, she glanced at her phone. Nine-thirty-six. A frown tugged at her lips. A few minutes more, and she began to pass the time by watching the people who entered and left the building. More were leaving than coming in. Sharply dressed businessmen. Professional looking women. The occasional family wandering out. A young couple. The usual suspects.

Another glance at her phone told her it was nine-forty-four. If he wanted her help so badly, couldn't he do her the courtesy of showing up on time? It felt like a waste for her to be sitting here, doing basically nothing. She flipped through the headlines on her phone, thinking it might be awhile. For all she knew, maybe he'd gone back to his normal self and was halfway back to Barcelona by now. She couldn't decide if that would be a load off her mind or not. On the one hand, she'd be rid of him. On the other, she'd have sacrificed a prime opportunity at arresting him. She'd been thinking about it, staring at the same paragraph on her phone for a minute or so, when a muffin suddenly came between her and the screen.

"_P__our tu, mademoiselle, parce que je suis tard, et un imbécile."_

She was only mildly startled, glancing up to see Vega was the one offering the food. Vega with shorter hair. She took the muffin, glanced around the lobby, and tossed it into the nearest trash can. "I don't speak French," she said flatly.

He raised his eyebrows a little, staring at the garbage can. "Oh. You did."

Another difference. She clicked her pen and dug out the page from her pocket to jot it down. "What did you do to your hair?" It wasn't bad. Still what would be considered 'long' on a guy, even if it didn't even reach his shoulders. But she wasn't about to compliment him. No reason to throw him a bone in that department. He might think too much of it.

His hand went to his hair reflexively, and he seemed again almost embarrassed. "I prefer longer hair, but two feet of it, it's a bit much. I thought I could cut it myself. 'Oh, how hard could it be'?" He shook his head. "As it turns out, it _is _hard. So I had to go somewhere to fix it. That's why I'm late." He looked back at the garbage one more time, and asked, "You don't like blueberries?"

"Not your blueberries," she muttered. She wasn't going to eat anything he offered her. He'd like to be able to mock her for eating out of his hands. "Let's get this over with." She still wouldn't trust him in a cab, so they walked the few blocks to pick up a rental car. She could turn the receipts in to be reimbursed by her work, so at least she wasn't paying to drive him around herself. It was cold and grey and she balled her hands up into fists in her coat pockets.

"We were here three years ago," he said, eyes seeming to be everywhere but forward and for some reason that annoyed her. Like he couldn't just keep still and pay attention to what was ahead of him.

"No, we weren't," she said sternly.

"Put it as one of the differences, then," he said with a shrug. "There was that place, ah, can't remember where exactly, but towards the river. That movie star guy you knew was all flustered when you told him you were dating me."

Movie star guy? "Fei Long?" she asked, squinting a little.

"Yeah!" Vega grinned. "You said you thought he'd always had a crush on you. I felt impressive, to win out over an actual celebrity."

She'd definitely take Fei Long over Vega any day of the week. Preferably, she'd be with neither. Fei Long had a cockiness of his own, though nothing that compared with Vega's. Fei Long had never asked her out, anyway, so it didn't matter. If he did have an interest in her, she'd never picked up on it, having only ever briefly spoken with him. She pulled the list and pen out of her pocket, and scribbled the differences down. He was crafting an elaborate alternate reality, so if it was a lie, surely it'd contradict itself sometime? "Well, you didn't," she said as she finished writing. "There is a list about 7 billion people long I'd date before you."

"Harsh," he said, but he was still smiling.

"Why do you think I know French?" she asked. A change of subject was desperately needed, and that point on her list stood out to her.

"You were living in France. Going to school there. So was I. It's how we met."

She didn't want to show any kind of shock to him. But it'd been a dream of hers when she was younger to study abroad-didn't matter where, really, just to be able to see new parts of the world and live like they did for a while. Then her father was killed, and all of her hopes and dreams were ground to dust under the weight of her new purpose. To make those who'd taken him from her pay. She couldn't give up until she'd settled the score. "That's what I wanted to do a long time ago," she admitted, though she didn't know why.

"Why didn't you?"

She almost snapped at him to shut him up. Maybe he was genuinely curious. Maybe he didn't know. But it felt like the world was mocking her in a way, having him ask her that question in such a curious and caring tone. She didn't want to satisfy it by responding. "Complications." The conversation was forced to an end when they reached their destination. She worked out the details with the clerk. Vega studied a map of the city pinned to the wall. Once she had everything she needed, they were off.

It was very awkward, sitting there with him. The silence was tense and strange, but putting on music seemed like it could end up being worse. Who knew what song might come on the radio? Last thing she needed to make this even more awkward was a love song playing. Finally, after sitting there fidgeting in every way humanly possible, he seemed unable to take it anymore. "You make a good teacher, you know," he said. "You should try again. It's never too late to change directions."

"Stop it," she said, fixing her eyes forward. The drive wasn't a terribly long one, at least. They were on minute ten of fifty. She sighed quietly. Maybe it was longer than she remembered.

"Okay. I only mean, I don't want you to think you can't do it."

"You don't _want _anything for me," she said. It was going to get old really fast, correcting him all the time like this. Why wouldn't he just learn already? It wasn't his business what she did with her life. And he _would _want her to abandon her job in law enforcement. One less thing for the murderers and criminals of Shadaloo to be worried about. How pleased Bison would be with him if he'd convinced one of his biggest threats to quit her hunt for them. She gripped the steering wheel a bit tighter.

"Okay," he said, and God, wasn't he patient all of a sudden? It annoyed her, to be less composed than he was. Almost like he had some secret knowledge about how to deal with her when she was irritated. She thought of cats toying around with animals before killing them, and that's how she felt now. Like some mouse being played with. Batted around. Trapped, freed, trapped, freed.

"What was that drawing you made?" she asked abruptly. She had to interrupt her own thoughts, and it was something she'd meant to ask about earlier anyway.

"Hmm?" He drew his eyes from the window slowly, turning to face her.

"The picture you drew on the hotel stationary. It said 'soy la noche', and it was plainly me. So what was it?"

"Oh. I drew you sort of like Batman."

She made a short, sputtering sound with her lips. What was she supposed to say to that? "What is wrong with you, in your head?"

"What! You _ruined _those two guys. Give yourself some credit, you are _at least _on Batman's level."

"Shut up, shut up," she said. Vega didn't talk about _Batman. _He certainly didn't doodle her in a cape and a mask. He was too pretentious to find anything cheeky or fun to be anything but 'offensive to his sensibilites', she was sure of it. "Don't-You're-" She interrupted herself with a sort of half-groan, half-sigh.

"Fine," he said, holding up his hands. "I won't draw you as Batman ever again. A series of words I thought I'd never be saying, but life is so full of beautiful mysteries."

"God," she huffed. Minute twenty-two of fifty. The silence, she learned, was definitely preferable. Aside from the occasional tapping of his fingers, the rest of the ride was quiet. It was awkward at first, but it began to feel more like work eventually. She kept an eye on him, made sure she could always see his hands, that he wasn't up to something that could result in her death. When they finally made it to Guile's home, her stomach felt empty and her heart was beating a little faster. He probably wasn't going to take too well to the fact that Vega was going to be standing at his front door. But she needed his input. Mentioning it was Vega would've gotten her nowhere with Guile, and he would tell her the same thing he always did when it came to him-find a way to make it look like an accident. She didn't know if Guile had ever killed someone, so she couldn't be sure if it was a real suggestion or a joke.

She inhaled deeply to calm her nerves before knocking on the door. Guile was expecting her, so she could be sure he'd be the one to answer. She heard heavy footsteps on the other side of the door before it opened, and he reacted pretty quickly. "Shit!" Guile cried immediately, grabbing Chun-Li by the arm and yanking her back while simultaneously grabbing Vega by the collar and slamming him against the side of the house. "Get in, Chun-Li, I've got him!"

"What-!" Vega managed to shout.

"No, hey, wait," she said, tugging on Guile's shirt sleeve. "This is the suspect I want you to help me with. He's..." She waved a hand, unable to come up with a good word. "Changed, somehow."

"Are you making her say that, you son of a bitch?" Guile all but hissed into Vega's face.

Vega stared back. "What?" he said finally, head shaking slowly. "All I can hear is my pulse in my ears."

Guile's brows drew together as he studied the other man. He glanced back at Chun-Li. "What's this about?" he asked her, still unwilling to let Vega go.

"There's something going on, and I just-" She stopped, putting a hand on Guile's wrist and trying to get him to let go of Vega. "I wanted some input from someone who's a bit more familiar with the weirder side of Shadaloo and company."

"We're _looking _at the weirder side of Shadaloo and company," he said, nodding at Vega.

"You know what I mean. The psycho power. The mind control. The kinds of things the other agents just don't really take seriously," she said. "I want another set of ears to hear it, so I know I'm not missing something blindingly obvious."

She saw Guile finally relax the muscles in his arm, though he still glared at Vega. "I don't like this asshole being anywhere near my home."

"You're the one still assaulting me," Vega put in, and she hadn't really seen him stick up for himself in any capacity since he'd barged back into her life.

"Thin ice, shithead. Microscopic." The words were spat through gritted teeth, and with one final shove, Guile let him go. "Only reason I haven't kicked your face in is her." He nodded back to Chun-Li. Vega rubbed his throat with one hand, and he was actually glaring back at Guile. She wondered, was the act crumbling? Was the ordeal over? But then she thought of all the things he knew about her, all the differences between the life he claimed he lived and the one she knew of. It wasn't just a matter of his personality, and she supposed, anyone would react to this situation like he was. If she'd approached someone as big and intimidating as Guile, only to have them grab her by the throat and threaten her, she supposed she'd be upset too. Though, Guile had good reason to threaten Vega.

"Is there anybody around here who actually _likes _me?" Vega asked finally.

"Only people who don't know you," Guile said. Then he waved a finger back and forth. "Spread your arms and legs and put your hands on the door."

"What?"

"TSA style. Let's go," Guile said. She knew that tone. It was his business tone. The 'I take no shits, and for you, give none either' voice. It'd never been directed at her as long as she knew him.

Vega looked to her for confirmation. As if asking, 'is this really what we have to do next?' She nodded to him, and he muttered something in Spanish before placing his hands on Guile's front door. Chun-Li had to hope his neighbors weren't the nosy sort. She was pretty sure Vega didn't have any kind of weapon on him, but she was also certain that Guile wouldn't let him inside without personally checking. Even then, she wasn't confident he'd let Vega in. Her eyes flicked back and forth from Vega, who seemed to be unable to keep his gaze fixed on any one thing, and Guile, whose face was pretty unreadable and expressionless as he patted down Vega's limbs.

"Fine," Guile said finally, crossing his hands over his chest. Vega wasn't ready to look him in the eye just yet, and Chun-Li thought of dogs who showed their subservience by avoiding eye contact with the alpha male. "You go inside. You sit down in my office. You don't leave your seat. You get up for nothing and I mean _nothing_. I don't care if you have to piss. I don't care if you are bleeding to death. I don't care if God himself knocks on my door and asks you to answer it. You. Don't. Move. You don't talk to my family. You keep your mouth shut unless one of us addresses you. We do our little interview, and you leave. You forget you ever came here. And if I see you take a _step _in this neighborhood, I will put one clean between your eyes, are we clear?"

Even Chun-Li felt a little intimidated after a speech like that, even if it wasn't directed at her. "Jesus Christ," Vega muttered, staring at the man. "What did they do to you in Vietnam?"

"Press your luck, kid, go ahead." Guile clapped Vega on the shoulder once before heading back inside.

Chun-Li started in after him, but Vega didn't follow. She looked back at him. "Coming?" she asked sweetly, but only because she knew just how afraid he was.

"You're _friends _with this guy?"

"He's a teddy bear, really," she said.

"I think you meant _grizzly bear,_" he said, letting her tug him inside by his elbow. She knew the place well enough. When she was first released from the hospital, after nearly dying by Vega's hand, Guile and Julia had offered for her to stay with them. At first, she'd refused. It felt silly to impose on them like that. She didn't want to look like a child. She accepted the offer after spending a terrifying and sleepless night in her apartment, suspecting every little creak and crackle, seeing Vega's face every time she closed her eyes, hearing his taunts when she reached the edge of sleep. She felt safe in Guile and Julia's home.

Now, she glanced over at Vega, different as he looked with that haircut and without any kind of pretension or arrogance in his eyes, and some awful feeling gnawed at her stomach. This murderer, this animal, had managed to find his way into such a safe place. She'd let him right in. She thought of stories about vampires who had to be invited into their victims' homes. What had she just brought into this house? Would she regret it by the end of this?


	7. Chapter 7

She summarized the problem as quickly as she could. Not just Vega's sudden personality change, but the way he knew things he shouldn't, the break-in and attempt on his life, the way Bison didn't seem responsible for any of it. Guile would nod along every once and awhile to show that he was paying attention, even if his eyes flicked over to Vega occasionally. Had to make sure he wasn't up to anything. She couldn't blame him. Vega was crafty, quick, and deadly. Bad combination for an enemy to have, especially one sitting in your home. It made her feel guilty that she'd brought him here to begin with. Guile was pretty patient to let her do this. Again, she thought of how safe the place felt to her, and maybe it just seemed at the time that nothing could go wrong here. That even if she brought someone like Vega into the heart of this little fortress, everything would still be okay in the end.

She held out her list, explaining it to Guile. It was still too short to notice any kind of discrepancies in the stories Vega was telling. "So you see the problem?" she asked.

"Yeah, unfortunately," Guile said, sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms. "I still say he's acting. I'd drop him off at the nearest prison if I were you."

She heard Vega sigh, but he didn't say anything. "Can't. Lost my best evidence against him to S.I.N.," she said. "Beyond that, he knows things he couldn't possibly know."

"Are you sure? Maybe our secrets just aren't as guarded as we like to think," Guile said. She knew he meant well, that he was trying to poke any holes he could into the situation. But the more she spoke to Vega, the more unsettled she became with the things he knew about her. Innocuous things like a favorite color were weird enough. When he got right down to stuff she feared and held anxiety over, such deeply personal thoughts that she'd only divulge to someone she really trusted, it was hard to write it off as an act, or something he'd just stumbled across.

She shook her head. "No, trust me, I've racked my brain trying to figure that part out." No one would enjoy feeling so exposed to another person without their consent. She'd thought of everything, and short of Vega having suddenly become some kind of telepathic thought-snatcher, she couldn't figure it out.

"You've told me a lot of things," Vega said. "I listen, even if you don't think I do."

"Shut it, psycho," Guile said, almost without thinking.

"Calm down, Captain America," Vega said defensively, holding his hands up. "I want to figure this out as much as you do."

"Vega," she warned. Guile wasn't terribly patient with people he disliked. "When we need something from you, we'll ask. Okay?" She was trying to maintain the peace. Vega obviously didn't enjoy being here and speaking to Guile-or _not _speaking to him. It felt reassuring, to see that he still got irritated with things. That was closer to normal than the weirdly kind and patient way he treated her. She turned her attention back to Guile, who was glaring at Vega. "So, focusing here. We have the Vega we know and love-assassin, crazy, matador. And...bizarro-Vega. Less crazy, absolutely awful fighter, teacher."

Guile snorted. "Teacher?"

"_Professor," _Vega said. Funny, he'd never corrected her on that before.

"Okay," Chun-Li said, before the two were at each others' throats again. She drew a line over the page in front of her. "When did we, allegedly, meet?" she asked him.

"A bit over five years ago. September."

She ticked a line perpendicular to the first, and wrote the date. "Okay. So according to you, we were both attending school in France." She wrote his version of events underneath, her version on top.

"Yes. You moved from the U.S., I moved from Spain."

That wasn't right. She'd only lived in the States briefly, and the date he gave didn't line up with that time. "Tell me more about that, it doesn't sound right." She waited, pen at the ready, focusing on the paper.

"You said you and your dad moved to the U.S. from China after Shadaloo ordered a hit on him."

Her heart stopped. What was he trying to say? She couldn't bring herself to write the information down. Instead her eyes seemed to be boring holes into the table. Guile was quicker to articulate his thoughts on the discrepancy than her. "You think you're being funny?" he practically snapped.

"What?" The genuine confusion in his voice only upset her more. She wanted him to laugh in that awful, condescending way he did, to show her he _was _toying with her. That he knew exactly what buttons he was pressing. But no, none of that happened, and he asked, "Are you okay?" He started to reach for her shoulder, and she was grateful that he stopped himself. She didn't want to think about what she might've done if he'd touched her.

"What are you saying?" she said, still unable to face him. Every other noise in the world became muted, save for her own pulse and his voice as he spoke.

"It's what you told me." He said it cautiously, like he realized he was treading towards dangerous territory. The tension in the room made that clear enough. "Your dad was with Interpol. He was working on some Shadaloo related case. After someone tried to kill him, he took an office position, I think. You moved with him to New York. When you were...fifteen? Sixteen? Can't remember."

Finally, she forced herself to look at him. He was somewhere between concerned and confused. "What then?" she asked, trying to keep her tone professional and even. And was it ever difficult with this killer sitting here, trying to play her for a fool. Or not. The two possibilities were threatening to set her brain on fire if she didn't reconcile them soon. She was helping him, murderer, terrorist, evil incarnate, how could she? He was genuine, lost, desperate, _different, _how could she not? His eyes were full of concern, the eyes of a friend worried for a friend and could she continue entertaining this?

"I don't know," he said slowly. He realized how upset she was, but couldn't fathom why. "You lived there until you came to Paris." He paused, but his lips were still parted, like he had more to say. She stared at him, and she couldn't take her eyes off of him. Like if she paid enough attention, she could find it, that sliver of insanity, the glimpse of malice, hidden there somewhere. "What happened?" he asked.

"Shadaloo happened," she said. How could he ask her about this, like he didn't know? Vega may not have been the one to kill her father, not yet having been a member of Shadaloo at the time, but he knew well enough why she dedicated herself to this cause.

"What?" He shook his head. "No, he's coming to-" He stopped. He knew what she was saying, but didn't want to put the words out there himself. "_Cariño__, _I'm sorry."

Sympathy was the last thing she wanted from him. "Don't-" She couldn't finish. She didn't need this. Didn't need him to mock her with some made-up fantasy life she could've been living. To pity her or pretend to care. "This is just some new, sick game for you, isn't it?" She tightened her grip on the pen before slamming it to the table.

"You think I'm making this up?"

"Wouldn't put it past you," Guile muttered under his breath, glancing over at Chun-Li. He was coming pretty close to throwing Vega out of his house for upsetting her. But what else could he expect out of him?

"I don't even know who you are!" Vega cried. He sighed angrily before turning back to look at her. "Chun-Li, come on. I don't know how, but this is some-" He waved his hand. "We have two very different stories here."

"Not stories," she said evenly. She forced herself to maintain her composure. Every ounce of strength she had in her, she projected to keep a cool outward appearance. If he was enjoying her suffering, he wasn't showing it. "One truth. One story."

"I believe you, okay? Whatever you say happened, I'll take it, and I'm sorry that it happened to you. But I know how my own life has gone, alright? I know what you've told me about how _your _life has gone." Finally, as if he couldn't take it anymore, he did reach out for her. A hand on her shoulder, thumb brushing over her sleeve. "I want to try-"

"Back it up," Guile ordered.

"_Who _are you?" Vega said, plainly irritated. He broke off into Spanish and they couldn't follow what he was saying.

"Too afraid to talk to me in terms I can understand?"

"I think you wouldn't understand it in English, either!"

"Stop it," Chun-Li said, holding up a hand and shrugging his from her shoulder. "Stop. Everybody." She breathed deep. This was a mistake. All of it. She should've shoved Vega's unconscious body out into the hallway of that hotel when she knocked him out. Let him be the state's problem when he started spouting his crazy story, wondering who he was. The _last _thing she should've done was listen to him. "Let's calm down. Take a break." She didn't wait for their input. She knew Guile wouldn't say anything, and she didn't want to hear what Vega had to say.

Leaving the room was instantly freeing. It was more open, and she could breathe again. She made it to the kitchen, leaned back against the counter, and put a hand to her head. Getting worked up was like letting him win. She had to keep it together. Even if he wasn't faking it, she had to remain composed. If she let herself get distracted over what-ifs, she could end up missing some big flaw in his story, and maybe that was just what he wanted. "You want me to kick him out, just say the word." Guile's voice brought her attention back to her surroundings. He wasn't looking at her, eyes still on Vega, who he'd ordered to come out to the den where he could keep tabs on him. He couldn't leave the guy alone in his house, but he couldn't stand to let Chun-Li suffer by herself.

She smiled a little. "No, I have a job to do, and I'm going to do it." Saying the words was like some instant boost of confidence. A reminder to herself that she couldn't give up on this. It'd be like letting him win, to not figure it all out.

"This isn't your responsibility," he said.

"You aren't the least bit curious about his story?" she asked, though she knew the answer. Guile was a very literal, no nonsense person, and probably didn't believe a word of it.

"The only thing about him I have any curiosity over is how long he can hold his breath if I threw him in the Hudson with a bag of rocks tied to his legs." She nodded slowly, but couldn't bring herself to smile at the morbid joke. He clapped a hand to her shoulder, and said, "Just don't get yourself bent out of shape over him. It's not worth it."

She nodded again. He was right, after all. "Yeah."

"Take as much time as you need. I'm going to make sure that nutbar doesn't get into anything." She glanced up at him as he left. He stopped in front of the couch where Vega had been told to sit. She heard him say, "On your feet." The two were gone from her line of sight, back in Guile's office. She breathed slowly, still looking out into the hall where they'd been. What was she supposed to do here? What was happening to Vega? Did it make any logical sense to believe his stories? How did he know all of the things he did? Was it at all realistic to think he'd somehow read her mind? Hypnotized her? Got her with some kind of truth serum? Had really lived this alternate life he was describing? She exhaled through her lips, rolling her eyes at all of these absurd possibilities.

"Oh, I wondered whose car was outside."

She turned at the sound of the voice, smiled to her friend as she entered the room. "Hey, Julia."

"Nice to see you," she said, the two sharing a quick hug. "You're probably here for work, though, aren't you?" She said it in a way that made it clear she already knew the answer.

Chun-Li nodded. "Weird case I wanted Will's input on," she said.

"Hm, then you _must _be desperate."

She laughed. "Yeah, it's a tough one. This-" How did she describe him? Criminal? Mentally ill? She wasn't sure. "This guy is making some pretty bold claims, and I'm trying to figure out what the best course of action is. It's further complicated by the fact he's apparently being threatened with death and kidnapping." It was a slightly more complicated and weird issue, but she didn't really have the time to explain it. Even if she did, could she really?

"Quite a lot to put on your plate."

"I wish I could say I'm used to it, but this really isn't at all like my usual fare. I'm at a bit of a loss as to how to respond."

Julia smiled in that reassuring way she had. "Well, they ended up in your hands for a reason. You're a capable person with a strong sense of right and wrong. But you're also compassionate, something that can be just as important but often overlooked." Julia put a hand on her shoulder. "I know you'll come through and make the best decisions for your case."

Chun-Li nodded slowly. She wished she had her friend's confidence about this. Part of it was just that Julia was saying whatever was most supportive, and part of it was that she didn't know all the specifics of the issue. But it never hurt to hear something kind and encouraging from a good friend. So she smiled. "Better get back at it." The two parted ways, and Chun-Li took one final deep breath before plunging back into the odd little circus she'd created here in Guile's office. "Okay," she said again as she sat down. She felt like she said the word a lot, but it was almost some sort of mantra for her. Something that grounded everything and prepared her for work. Vega sat up a little straighter when she came back in, and Guile still leaned into his elbows propped against his desk. "Back to your story." Her voice was unwavering as she spoke. It felt much nicer to be calm about things, even if the words she had to say felt foreign and upsetting. "So according to you, my father was never killed by Shadaloo." She wrote it down without hesitating. Maybe he was toying with her, maybe this was genuine. Until she knew for sure, there was no sense in letting him see her get upset.

"Yes. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," she said evenly. She finished writing her version of the events, the one she knew unfortunately all too well. "Tell me what you know about Shadaloo. You said before you were keeping tabs on them."

He sat back, eyes roving around the room, though she noticed they always managed to avoid Guile. "Shadaloo took over the entirety of Thailand. There were speculations that their reach would continue to grow, unless somebody intervened."

"Bison took over Thailand," Guile repeated, plainly unbelieving.

"Yes."

Chun-Li remembered suddenly the remark Vega made when she was trying to get him to lie to Bison. "Yeah, you said this last night," she said as she jotted it down. "Here, Shadaloo is just a small base. It's never gotten any bigger than that."

"Really? Because they seem pretty unstoppable."

"How so?" Guile asked.

Vega shrugged. "That Bison guy is just very powerful and intelligent. He's engineered this robot army-"

"Jesus Christ," Guile said with a sigh. "We're really going to listen to this?"

"You are the ones asking me," Vega said. "And that's how it went."

"Think about Seth," Chun-Li said to Guile. "He probably means androids like that one."

"Yeah, that _one. _The rest were useless, and that one wasn't exactly thrilled about serving Shadaloo," Guile said. "He's making all of this up as he goes."

"Yes, I want you to believe me, so I chose the most outlandish stories I could imagine," Vega said before rolling his eyes. "Can you listen? Shadaloo is a huge threat. They have at their disposal an army of those android things. Those girls have assassinated dozens of politicians across the globe who get serious about fighting back. They brainwash people into fighting for them. Nobody has seen this Bison guy in years so they haven't been able to take him out."

Chun-Li took it all down as quickly as she could. Shadaloo was not what she would call 'ineffectual', but it did seem to pale in comparison to the one from Vega's story. She despaired to think of them ever becoming so powerful. So what had happened to prevent that from happening? "Those girls," she repeated slowly. "You're talking about the Dolls again." He'd mentioned before how he felt bad for them, that they were kept there under Shadaloo's control. The real Vega must have felt a bit bad for them, too. Or at least, for Cammy, as he'd helped to get her out of Shadaloo. She noted that, and studied her little dual timeline. Hadn't Cammy been the one to come back, free the Dolls, and destroy the psycho drive? It'd dealt a pretty powerful blow to Shadaloo. It'd weakened Bison enough to be killed later by Akuma, another setback. She looked up at Vega. "Without you to get Cammy out of Shadaloo safely, she never got out at all. She never destroyed the psycho drive." She traced a line idly from the point that mentioned the Dolls, over to Shadaloo taking over Thailand. "So Bison just got stronger because he never had to start over."

"I thought you said I'm supposed to be working _for _Shadaloo?" he asked, completely confused by the point she'd just made. "If I'm one of them, why would I go against them like that?"

She shook her head. "You didn't exactly go against _them._" She didn't know the whole story, because Cammy didn't like talking about it. Rose had helped rid her of her memories of Shadaloo, so what she knew were just bits and pieces. "You were assigned to kill Cammy because she'd started to become self-aware. For some reason, you didn't do it, and the rest is just like I've said." She squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to concentrate. "But if you never joined Shadaloo, she never had someone to get her to that point. If Bison never died, Balrog never took command and ran it all into the ground. And if Bison just became more and more powerful, Akuma may not have killed him." She stopped to consider that last point, horrific possibilities creeping into her mind at what Bison may have done if he had Akuma's power at his own disposal.

"And you said Chun-Li's not an Interpol agent," Guile put in, looking at the list of differences now. "You and I have harassed Bison and crew so many times I've lost count. But I never would've found the place if it wasn't for your hard work. If I never partnered up with you, we never blew the place to pieces." She nodded as she wrote this down as well, looking up when Guile gave a short, ironic laugh. "So without you and me to work at them from the outside, and Vega and Balrog over there to screw it up from the inside, they just kind of took off. Allegedly, anyway." He braced his arms against the desk for support, grinning a bit as he looked over at Vega. "You guys are your own worst enemies."

"I suppose I can live with that," Vega said. "Even if it doesn't really put me any closer to understanding what's going on."

"Like we are?" Guile asked, then gave a short laugh. "It's like a parallel universe you have going on. Some real Quantum Leap shit."

Chun-Li smirked, and shook her head. "Wow, you're admitting you don't know something? Maybe _we're _in the alternate reality."

"Yeah, maybe in this one, you can be engaged to Rufus and Dan Hibiki is the godfather of your future child."

So there were possibilities more disturbing than dating Vega. "Back to this," she said quickly, tapping her pen on the paper. None of them had said the words 'parallel' or 'alternate' out loud to describe the situation until now, and she felt suddenly emboldened to pursue that notion. "Do you guys think that something like that could be it?" Guile's critical gaze was almost enough to make her feel ridiculous for even asking. "This alternate reality idea, I mean."

"Definitely not," he said. "There's a more logical explanation."

"The two aren't mutually exclusive, you realize?" Vega said. Guile raised his eyebrows, allowing for him to continue. "The idea of a multiverse, or 'possible worlds', or whatever you want to call it, is a philosophically and scientifically legitimate theory that people much more intelligent than you or I have and continue to study. It's possible that there are a large-if not infinite-number of different universes wherein anything that could have happened in _our _past, but didn't, did happen."

"Well, excuse me, Dr. Hawking, for being a bit skeptical when a terrorist waltzes into my home telling me he's in love with one of my best friends who he's also tried to kill on multiple occasions," Guile said.

Chun-Li listened to the conversation, more than a little unsure of which stance to take. "What does that theory have to say about people moving between those worlds, then?" she asked.

He shrugged. "I'm not terribly well versed on the topic. I'm sorry."

She snorted at his apology. He seemed like he knew more about it than her, so what was he sorry about? "It's fine," she said, flipping the page with the timelines, and writing on the back. She jotted down the words 'parallel world', then glanced up at Guile. "So we have one proposed solution, outlandish as it sounds. What else?"

"Drugs, brain damage, mind-control, pure sadism on his part..."

Vega sighed loudly, but Chun-Li wrote them down, considering them as she did. She shook her head, crossing off the first two. "No, I already ruled these out with the trip to the hospital," she said. She looked at the third possibility. "And Bison doesn't seem involved." She almost marked through it, but a suggestion from Guile stopped her.

"Then maybe it's not Bison doing it," he said. How had she not even considered that? So she nodded, leaving that point on the list. The fourth, she hesitated on. Much as she disliked Vega, it was pretty difficult to believe he was acting. It'd been too long, too thorough, too knowledgeable to be an act. So she instead wrote 'probably not' beside it.

"Who else has that kind of power?" she asked.

It was Vega's turn to get critical. "You two won't believe a solution based in metaphysics, but you believe in supernatural powers. Nice, fine."

"We've seen those first hand," Guile responded. "Can't say I've ever seen a parallel world or whatever."

Vega stared at him like he was an idiot before waving his hand in front of his face. "Hola, estúpido! Where do you think I come from? I can tell you it's not here!"

Guile held his hand up, and Chun-Li could tell from the exasperated expression he wore that he was getting closer to his breaking point with Vega. "Sit your ass down and shut up, alright? When I want to hear your opinion, I'll ask for it."

"Okay, okay," Chun-Li said quickly. The look on Vega's face was not at all a friendly one at the moment. Even if this wasn't their version of Vega, she didn't know him, and couldn't predict how he'd respond. He certainly _looked _like he wanted to throttle Guile, but she couldn't say if he'd act out or not. "I think we're just moving in circles here." She picked up her paper, and folded it once. "We can't commit to believing his story, he can't commit to our alternatives. We're just going to have to agree to disagree until one party finds some kind of concrete evidence for or against the other."

"How have I not given you enough?" Vega asked, showing some frustration still. "I've told you all these things you've admitted I shouldn't be able to know-"

She held up a hand, and he quieted himself with a sigh. "I'd like to believe you. It'd be one less thing to worry about," she said. "But _you _have to understand our perspective, too. You aren't a person we can trust, and are involved with people who can and have done things we would have never thought possible. Can't you agree that it's a bit naive to immediately trust your story, given our point of view?"

He drew a hand over his face, fingers resting over his mouth, but ultimately nodded. "Fine. I suppose I can understand that, to an extent." It was a begrudging acceptance, but at least there was some small piece of progress. They had agreed on something. "Where does that leave us?"

"Well, whatever your deal is, it's plain you don't want to go back to Shadaloo," she said. "And I can't really bring myself to leave you at Juri's mercy either. I'm going to do what I can to help you disappear, unless you..." She waved her hand once, still feeling a little strange about all of this. "...turn back into yourself."

"Are you hearing yourself?" Guile asked. "You're going to help him? _Him?"_

"Keeping him from Shadaloo is my priority right now."

"And what happens to you when he drops the act? It's too big of a risk!" He leaned forward, keeping his eyes on hers, and she could see how much stress her decision was causing him. "Think about whether or not this is worth your life."

"I don't kill people," Vega muttered, but went ignored by both parties.

It was a stalemate. Maybe she was putting herself in danger, but that was a risk inherent in standing against Shadaloo to begin with. Sure, eliminating Vega from their ranks wouldn't be the blow that sent the whole thing crumbling down. But it wasn't negligible either, and every strike against them mattered. The ideas she'd crafted concerning what would happen if Bison got a hold of Vega again were dark ones. Vega's weakness in combat was his instability and lack of self-control. If Bison erased that flaw through the same sort of conditioning he'd performed with the Dolls, what was left? "I know you don't like hearing that, Guile, but this is what I'm going to do." She looked up at him, and he was shaking his head. "If you want to offer any help, that'd be great. But if you don't, I understand that, too." There wasn't much left to say to him about this, so she nodded to Vega as she stood up. "Let's go."

"Chun-Li, wait," Guile said, and she could hear the agitation in his voice. She stopped at the threshold of his office. "Look, he might be tolerable for now. But just keep your eyes open, and if you get in over your head, _call me. _I want updates from you. Regularly. Maybe a message every morning and every evening?"

She smiled, but didn't argue with him. It was a simple enough request, and a logical one, too. If she didn't message him, then he'd know something went wrong. "I will." In a way, it made her feel better to know she'd have him as a kind of backup, someone who'd notice if she disappeared. Of course, she hoped it didn't come to that. She exchanged good-byes with Guile and his family, and as they left, Vega seemed instantly less tense. "You don't like Guile very much," she stated once they were in the car again.

He had his arms crossed tightly, fingers flexing as he tried to generate warmth. "Do you like people who grab you by the throat for existing?"

"Remember," she said, "To us, you're someone very different."

His eyes fell briefly before looking back up at the road ahead. There was a light dusting of snow on the street. "Right," he said in a quiet voice, like it was more for himself than her. They were both silent after that. She kept her eye on him whenever she could, unwilling to let her guard down. He caught her looking at him occasionally, and she tried not to appear embarrassed. It got to be too much for her, and she decided maybe music wasn't such a horrible risk after all. Better than the awkward silence, and she could skip a song if it seemed like it might make things awkward. "You shouldn't play with your phone while you drive." She wanted to laugh at him for saying that. If he only knew the number of dangerous situations they'd both been in.

"Just putting something on," she mumbled back.

"How did you do that?" he asked when the music finally played.

She raised an eyebrow. "Bluetooth."

"Oh. I'm an idiot," he muttered, like he realized in hindsight how obvious it was. "I'm terrible at things like that. I'd have the radio making coffee or something if I tried to do what you just did."

She sputtered, trying to interrupt her own laughter at the absurd statement. "Well, I think that would actually make you a genius, to make a drink out of radio waves."

"Yeah, you always have a way of spinning it nicely."

Again, she felt a bit uncomfortable. It was really hard to come to terms with him behaving like he knew her so well. She thought of all of the parallel universe stuff. Philosophy had never really been her thing, and while she kept up with some of the more basic scientific news, she couldn't begin to imagine how the idea was anything but science fiction. Even if there was someone sitting here with such a different take on their lives. It seemed naive to accept what he had to say at face value, but then it seemed stubborn to just reject everything and dismiss his knowledge of her as coincidence, or absurdly invasive and specific espionage.

"You're still stuck on this?" he said, bringing her attention back to him and the music. "What's it been, a year since this came out? And I'm sure you've had it on nonstop the entire time."

Her cheeks flushed red, and she hoped he wouldn't notice. She hated how much he knew about her. Even if this wasn't Vega, it was somebody enough like him to make it creepy when he spoke to her about herself. "So what?" she said.

He shook his head and shrugged. "It's just funny what changes and what stays the same." He stopped, a little smile coming to him, like he was remembering something. "You said one of your friends made jokes out of this song, like, 'I synced your mother to the Moog modular because I knew it was a sound of the future'. Something like that." She stared at the road as they drove, forcing herself not to smile as she thought of Ken's dumb jokes. He'd sent her a series of messages referencing or parodying the song, that being one of many. "I pretended not to understand what a 'your mom' joke was, and it was really something to watch you try to explain it to me."

She wrinkled her nose."You just like torturing me, no matter how different your life is," she said, slightly irritated.

He laughed. "Not _torturing. _It's just-" He stopped himself, seemed a bit hesitant to say.

But of course, that made her curious, so she had to know. "Spit it out."

"It's cute to see you get flustered." His hand brushed through his hair. He didn't look back at her, knowing it'd probably upset her for him to say that. "That is, when it's over a harmless thing," he added softly, remembering all of the horrible things she said he'd done to her in this life.

She frowned a little at his sudden shift in tone. "Well, if you're really from somewhere else, don't feel guilty for what your alternate self has done. You seem-" She stopped. She wasn't about to compliment him, was she? There had to be a better way to phrase it. "You seem like you aren't as much of a jackass."

"My God, the highest honor one can earn from you."

"Stop it."

"I think, maybe I should have had a speech prepared for this?"

"Stop!" she said, trying to keep herself from laughing at the way he pretended to be so genuinely flattered and shocked.

"I thank God, of course, for this moment-"

"I'm going to push you out of the car."

"-and I want to thank my agent, who made me such an expert on not being as much of a jackass-"

"I take it back."

"That's really unprofessional."

"Oh, unprofessional? I think you-" She never got to finish the statement. The awful sound of metal squealing against metal interrupted her, a jolt running through the car and throwing them both against their restraints. There was another impact as the car slammed into the guardrail, she took a tighter hold on the steering wheel. She pressed on the gas, and for a moment the tires spun uselessly on the icy street before they gained traction and moved forward. She glanced up at the other vehicle reflected in the rearview mirror. Shadaloo or S.I.N., a delightfully short list of choices. Either way, they'd been found, and now it was up to her to lose them.

* * *

i don't know anything about metaphysics or quantum mechanics and only have the most basic grasp of the possible worlds theory(maybe not even that haha), so if i got anything wrong in a way that doesn't fall under 'suspension of disbelief', please let me know and i'll fix it. and yeah that is a reference to daft punk's giorgio by moroder and...ah :p you people who are still reading are truly brave and tolerant souls


	8. Chapter 8

**Head's up** there are a few f-bombs in this chapter. i didn't bump the rating because even pg-13 movies get a few i think, so yeah, hope that's ok.

* * *

"We have to lose them," she said out loud, maybe more to organize her thoughts than to give him a warning about how recklessly she was about to start driving. It was difficult to keep the car pointed in any one direction with a fresh layer of snow on the road, and an amusing variety of worried and frightful noises escaped him as they snaked and swerved through the lanes of traffic.

"Red, that light is red-" she heard him muttering as they approached an intersection. Red light or not, they couldn't afford to be stopped. She looked for oncoming traffic, blared the car horn to draw attention to them. Someone seemed to get what was going on, and their car slid and squealed to a stop just as they took the turn. It was sharp, quick, the rear tires sliding wildly and she tried to straighten out the wheel. The back of the car slammed heavily into a vehicle in the next lane, the whole intersection plunging into a cacophony of car horns, squealing tires, cracking glass, and crumpling metal. "Ohhh _vamos a morir_," he said, fingers digging into his hair, eyes trying to be everywhere at once.

"What does that mean?" she asked. She suddenly switched lanes, narrowly making it between two cars. Flicking her eyes up to the rearview mirror, she saw the larger vehicle still following, just a few cars behind.

"We're going to die!"

"I'm pretty sure we've both been through worse," she said, braking quickly, jerking into another gap in traffic. She knew it would only get worse as they moved through Brooklyn. What was her end game here? Where should they be heading? Back to Guile? No, she couldn't bring this back to his home. Back to one of the hotels? No, it'd do no good to get there and be assaulted as soon as they got out of the car.

"Maybe you have, but I live a nice, comfortable, _safe_ life and that's how I prefer it!" His hands flew up to his head as they nearly collided with another vehicle. He winced when they made it into the next lane safely.

"Come on, where's your adventurous spirit?" she asked. Another red light. Another death-defying right turn.

"Ahh, no! I don't like a world where _you _are more reckless than _me_!"

The other car was catching up. How could they possibly lose it? Who was in it? The windows were too tinted for her to be able to tell. Maybe it was the S.I.N. assassin who'd gotten away, back to finish the job. But then, gunshots hadn't been fired. Surely that was the more effective way to try to kill either of them than trying to run their car off the road? They obviously weren't terribly concerned with keeping a low profile, either, the way they were plowing through cars like that. Maybe it was someone from Shadaloo after all, desperate to get to Vega before someone got him talking about fairly sensitive info. It gave her a moment to wonder-was there any valuable information in his mind, even if he didn't remember it? She sighed loudly at the absurdity of it all, trying to keep Vega away from the pair of vultures whose nests he'd fallen out of. She took a left at the next intersection while she had a chance, thinking maybe it'd throw them for a second. No such luck-the larger car followed, shooting across the two other lanes.

"God, no, wrong fucking way!" she heard him scream just as car horns began blaring. That left she'd taken was onto a one way street. She muttered out her own startled curse, jerking to the right, missing the oncoming car by a hairs-breadth. She really hadn't meant to do this, must've missed the sign somehow. After all, she _did _have a lot on her mind at the moment. A jolt ran through the car as the two tires on the right side bounced up onto the empty sidewalk. She winced when they hit a bike rack and a horrible grinding noise could be heard briefly under the vehicle. She was a perfectly fine, attentive driver under normal circumstances, but this was _not _a normal circumstance.

"Are they still following us?" she asked him, interrupting his cursing and shouting. She couldn't afford to turn around and look for herself, focusing all attentions on weaving through the oncoming traffic that was blaring by noisily.

"Apparently they are just as suicidal as _you_ are! I'm the only one who wants to live!"

"You'll be okay, you big baby," she said, eyes finding the blessed end of this chaotic and hellish charge against traffic. Another intersection. This time she made sure to look for signs indicating which way traffic was flowing. The light was green but that wasn't terribly helpful, since cars were only coming from the opposite direction in a seemingly endless stream. She slammed on the brakes, tires screeching out their distaste for her decision, hard left. An oncoming car managed to hit their breaks soon enough to not kill them when they collided. The passenger side windows cracked, some of it falling into the car. Vega's arms flew up to cover his head and she heard him repeating something in Spanish. The tires spun uselessly for a moment before they finally gained traction on the slick asphalt. The guy who'd run into them was out of his car, waving an obscene gesture at them.

"Do you want me to die?" Vega finally asked.

"I don't _want _anyone to die," she said. Flashing red lights caught her eye up ahead, and her hesitation was brief. It was now or never, and she had to stick with this decision. The engine hummed louder and louder as they accelerated, car pointed between those lights.

"No, you slow down and stop there, not-" He groaned, sinking down into his seat, teeth gritted. The red and white arms were coming down to keep any traffic from crossing the tracks. She swerved around the few stopped cars in their lane, out into the opposite lane. He started speaking in Spanish, words flying out of him so quick she'd never stand a chance at picking any of them out. She saw the train approaching, saw the car still on their tail. He covered his face with his hands, unable to watch any more but he was shouting something at her, something like 'estás loco' over and over. Her stomach felt empty and her palms were sweating and then the car shuddered and shook as the tires propelled them over the bumpy tracks. Car horns blared, the freight train horn bellowed all too close, and then they were across. She sucked in a breath, looked over her shoulder. Nothing following behind, they'd been too slow.

"We did it," she whispered.

"No _you! You _did it! 'It' meaning almost had us pureed by a freight train!"

"Are you alive?"

"I don't know yet, there's still time for you to try to drive us into a-a wheat thresher or something."

"Where do you think we'd find one in Brooklyn?"

"You'd fucking figure it out!"

She raised her eyebrows at him. He still didn't sound like Vega, but he seemed pretty agitated. "There had to be some way they found out where you were," she said, again, mostly to herself. "Some way they're tracking you." It was unlikely to be anything in his clothes. That seemed like a pretty extensive precaution on Shadaloo's part, not one she saw Bison taking, either. She grimaced to think of him tagging his employees like animals with some kind of microchips under their skin. How could she know? There was no evidence saying he did, but she knew that didn't necessarily confirm anything. Was it just a coincidence that they'd been found, so far from where Bison had last spoken with Vega on the phone? "Oh!" she cried suddenly as she realized the most obvious possibility. She would've smacked herself if she wasn't trying to pay close attention to the road. "Your phone. You should get rid of it."

"Where?"

"I know what we can do," she said. "You'll mail it back to yourself. Back to Spain. That way, the phone is still moving. They won't suspect that it's not still with you."

"Where am I supposed to go?" he asked. "If not back to Spain. Is that where I still live?"

She winced as she nodded, the topic a bit iffy. "Sort of. You spend a good deal of time in Thailand, too. Maybe you should hold off on going back to Spain until you can figure out how to do so safely."

"I'm not going to make it," he muttered.

"Don't be so negative."

"It's difficult when you've got two different terrorist organizations tearing apart New York to find you."

Well, she supposed that was a pretty good reason for having a poor outlook on the future. But then, he sort of brought it on himself by getting involved with them to begin with. "Still, no sense in just giving up," she said. She stopped herself from adding that she was too interested in figuring out the mystery behind his personality change out to let him be compromised.

"I will never understand you, ever," he said.

She pressed her lips together. Finally, she caught sight of the blue and white sign of a post office up ahead. "What's that supposed to mean? I'm not some great and difficult mystery." Such an implication, coming from the guy who did a complete 180 from sociopathic killer to practically a wimp, seemed a bit unfair. There was also the fact that he seemed to know so much about her, so how could she be all that mysterious to him?

"No, I suppose I mean more, just people like you. How you can always stay so positive."

That wasn't what she was expecting to hear. She shrugged, getting out of the car and ending the conversation. Once inside, she grabbed one of the sturdier, bubble-wrapped yellow envelopes, and handed it to him. "Just put your address on it and hope it doesn't get broken, I guess."

"What address?" he asked, staring at the blank surface. "I don't live in Spain anymore. And I don't know this-me's place of residence. Do you?"

Another hurdle. She didn't really care where his phone ended up, as long as it wasn't with them anymore. "Just write anything, we need to get rid of it," she said quietly, glancing around to be certain no one was eavesdropping. He blew out a breath through his nose and quickly scribbled something. It appeared to be in Barcelona, so she had to ask out of curiosity, "Where is that?"

"A restaurant I like. Used to like. Maybe it exists here, maybe it doesn't. I hope it does, because it'd be nice. Something stays the same." He stopped and pressed his lips together, then shook his head, like he was annoyed with something. "But who wants to think about the boring changes like if a restaurant is real or not anymore."

"Sounds like you do."

"Maybe!" he said. "You lick this envelope for saying that! Roach eggs and all!" He shoved the envelope at her face and she ducked away from it, waving her hands frantically. She didn't let herself bother with wondering how he knew she hated licking envelopes. It wasn't fun being so resigned to the fact that he could know practically anything about her. She bunched her lips together tightly, glaring at him with no real threat to back it up. Yeah, she could have him face down on the floor with one foot, but she kind of suspected at this point just about anyone had that advantage over him. It wasn't as satisfying as she thought it would be, to be better than him at something.

She watched him get in line, giving herself a moment to really take that image in. Millionaire socialite waiting to send off his post with the commoners. Bizarre didn't cover it. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she checked it. The message made her heart beat just a little faster. It was the report on him and his family. She thought of looking at it immediately, but stopped herself. They wouldn't be here that long, and she didn't want to have her attention turned towards something else once she started reading it. Maybe it was plain now that this wasn't just Vega she was talking to anymore, but that didn't take away from her interest in having found the past the real one was clearly trying to bury.

Within a few minutes, the phone was no longer their problem. She hoped she'd been right in her instinct that it was what gave away their location. It'd become obvious fairly soon if someone found them again, she supposed. A list was assembling itself in her head as she drove almost on autopilot back to the rental place. Weren't they going to be _thrilled _with this vehicle coming back into their possession. It'd taken a lot of explaining on her part, and the guy seemed somewhere between agitated and intrigued, asking her again and again about the details of the chase. She really didn't take any pleasure in that part of her job, but tried to be patient and explain herself wherever necessary.

Once she got rid of the car, it was time to move hotels...again. Find a place to print and read her report. Find time to eat somewhere in between all of this. Hope that whoever had been chasing them in Brooklyn hadn't managed to trace them back to Manhattan. She remembered briefly the muffin she'd rejected this morning, and her stomach started vocalizing some pretty hefty complaints for it.

She told Vega to check out of his hotel and meet her at her room as soon as possible. If he was the one being tracked, then Shadaloo knew where he'd moved to. She was working on the assumption still that Bison hadn't figure out her role in all of this. Juri was another story. That assassin who'd gotten away probably told her enough. It was all starting to give her a headache. Or maybe it was the lack of food. Brightly wrapped candy bars caught her eye while she waited for her report to print. The copy place up the street from her hotel had seemed like a better place to print everything than the hotel itself. But now she was being taunted by junk food. She glanced back at her report. Halfway done. She glanced back at the candy and sighed quietly as she bought one.

The pages of the report were still warm, and she stuffed it all into a folder she'd bought from the copy place. Holding it was making her anxious. Maybe, she thought, she could poke around in it before Vega got to her room. After all, how late had he been this morning? Punctuality seemed like an afterthought to him.

Once she was back in the privacy of her own room, she threw off her coat and flipped through the pages. She grimaced upon reaching a few crime scene photos. She'd seen so many like it, some even worse, and it never got any easier. As it turned out, the website she found had been fairly accurate. Just as it said, Mireia had been shot by her second husband. And he was in turn killed by her son. She sighed heavily, feeling defeated when she saw a photo of him. A piece of evidence for his case of self-defense. His eyes, which would later learn to be cold and unfeeling, displayed a shell-shocked expression she'd seen in many photos like this one. Wide, somewhere between frightened and dazed, gaze never directed into the camera. Nasty bruises ran a circle around his throat. He was obviously younger, but it was him. Vega _was _Andres.

How could his story be so different from reality? Not just with regard to his own parents, but to her father as well. According to him, her dad was still alive. Planning to visit over the weekend to check out her new apartment in Chicago. A horrible, hollow feeling permeated every inch of her. 'What-if' scenarios had haunted her nearly every day since he died. So was this the answer? That she ended up in love with a murderer?

No. That couldn't be it. She'd have a happier life. No more Shadaloo, no threats of death. A normal young adulthood, where she pursued a career that didn't hinge on her desperate need for vengeance. A supportive father all the while, never being robbed of that. This didn't mean it had to end with her falling in love with Vega.

She returned her attention to the report. The consequences of his traumatic experience were made clear within a month. He'd been suspended from school for a few days after beating another student to the point of unconsciousness for making lewd remarks about visiting his mom's grave. Kids could be pretty cruel to each other, so it didn't surprise her that he became a subject of gossip and jokes to some of his classmates. According to some of his teachers, he'd gone from an outgoing and fairly average, well-liked student to completely withdrawn, losing old friends when he stopped speaking to them.

His record became littered with offenses resulting from him engaging in risky behavior. The first arrest didn't seem to phase him as he was caught over and over for different things. A few for breaking and entering. One for 'assaulting' a police officer, though apparently he'd just thrown something at the cop's car and called him a pig, just to get the man's ire up. Another for trespassing. A few more for getting into fights-he'd been one of many caught up in a bust that had been targeting some illicit gambling den where people bet on the outcomes of fist fights.

One of his teachers sent him to a school counselor for his plummeting grades and sudden antisocial behavior. After a few bouts of stony silence or violent outbursts, the counselor tentatively suggested a diagnosis of PTSD. Andres vehemently denied anything was wrong with him and refused any kind of further counseling. Her lips came together tightly. She was lucky enough to be in a line of work that ensured its employees received mental health counseling whenever necessary. Her job was, after all, quite stressful, and came with its fair share of disturbing sights and events. She remembered how alone she'd felt when her father died, but also remembered later feeling a mixed sort of relief that she hadn't been there to see it happen. Just imagining it had been enough to bring her to tears, so she tried to put herself in Vega's position and she had to stop herself. It was just too depressing to think about, and she could see how someone would come out of that situation with a _lot _of baggage. PTSD or not, he'd certainly needed some kind of help, so why had he denied it to himself? She supposed she knew why-no one wanted to be the person with a problem. He'd already become a subject of gossip and rumors for what happened to his family, so she figured he must not have wanted to stoke the fire with another issue. So he only got worse.

His near perfect academic record had begun faltering soon after his mother's marriage, and fell drastically after her death. He'd barely managed to graduate, and then essentially disappeared. A manifest listed him as a passenger en route to Tokyo. She squinted as she read the next line. No return flight to Spain, yet somehow four years later he was listed as a passenger on a flight from Barcelona to London. Why had he gone to London? When had he come back to Spain, and how, if not by plane? Maybe the records were lost in the shuffle, or maybe he'd hired a private jet.

Hadn't Vega been a well-known matador by this point? She ran a search on her phone. Sure enough, the date of his first bullfight was listed as having been two years after Andres left for Tokyo. She rubbed her eyes, a bit confused. If he'd gone through the trouble of taking on the alias Vega, why go back to being Andres a couple of years later? Why did he get involved in being a matador anyway, if he was trying to hide who he used to be? Wouldn't his old classmates recognize him? Hadn't he said his father was against bullfighting? Was it out of some kind of spite? She flipped through the papers again, finding the report she'd ordered on his biological father. Sergi was Catalan, his family descended from nobility. He married Mireia when he was twenty-five and she, twenty-one. After a year of marriage, Andres was born. Five years after that, Sergi left his family.

Her brows drew together as she read further. Threats were made against Sergi when he backpedaled on an investment. She swallowed hard. '_An investment suspected to have been solicited by M. Bison of Shadaloo.' _She read the sentence again and again, wanting to laugh and cry at the same time. Bison approached Sergi in an effort to secure funding for research into cloning. Sergi agreed at first, taking an interest in furthering what he thought was a legitimate scientific study. Shadaloo, at the time, wasn't a household name synonymous with terrorists and mad scientists. When he began to have doubts, Bison coerced him, making threats against his family. Sergi complied and, fearing for the safety of his wife and son, left Spain. He didn't tell his wife anything, afraid of what might happen to her if he did.

Sergi was found dead in Chile twelve years later, suspected to be the handiwork of Shadaloo. By the time law enforcement working on the case realized who he was, Mireia had been dead for nearly a year. They tried instead to contact Andres, and he'd been all but impossible to find. She skimmed by the photos, catching sight of a blood stained wall, a body slumped over a desk, a pool of red against the lacquered surface. A file full of letters was found in his home, many of which were addressed to his wife and son but never sent, for whatever reason. She flipped through them, page after page of grainy photocopies. The writing was legible, but it was all in Spanish. She couldn't read them. A line caught her eye. '_Andres-¡Feliz cumpleaños! ¡Tienes SIETE años! __Te echo MUCHO de menos..._'

She wanted to throw up. Did she know anyone whose life _hadn't _been ruined by Bison? Did Vega know all of this? If he did, he was much more screwed up than she thought. She couldn't imagine the sort of person who would willingly join the people responsible for the dissolution of their family, of their entire life. And she was sure Bison, the sadistic megalomaniac he was, found the whole thing to be particularly amusing. He probably pounced on Vega the moment he'd caught his eye. Salt in the wounds to the guy who'd crossed him-look what I've turned your kid into. She set the pages face down on the desk, unable to keep looking at them. She didn't want to think about his dad missing his family and terrified for their safety. She didn't want to think about his mom, bitter and resentful, never knowing what she'd done to deserve being abandoned. She didn't want to think about him, his life falling apart around him until he just couldn't take it anymore and he snapped. Because it could happen to anybody and that was the scariest thing of all. Nobody started off evil or bad. Apply enough pressure and anything will break. Some people just had less tolerance than others.

A knock on the door made her breath catch. She shoved the papers back in their folder, like she'd been caught in the middle of committing a crime. There wasn't anything in these pages for her to use against him, no real obvious line to his work in Shadaloo, only a kid who'd gotten reckless and seemed to disappear. It'd just served to depress her, and she didn't want the report anymore. At first, she thought to throw it away, but the information was more than a bit sensitive. That gave her a second to think, if this were her past, would she want to know? If these were letters from her missing father, would she want to read them? She sighed quietly. Of course she would want to know the truth. So she set her coat on top of the folder to hide it for now. Maybe this alleged alternate-Vega, the one with a better life, wouldn't benefit from knowing this stuff. But the Vega she knew might, if he ever came back from wherever he was.

She opened the door for him. A very surreal experience, to be inviting him into her room like this. "Good job, I thought I had an hour at the least," she said, the silence probably a bit weirder than his being there.

"You shouldn't _want _me to be fast," he said and she made a face. He laughed nervously, suddenly shrugging. "Forgot. I'm sorry, I was...really not thinking." That made her more embarrassed. He set his bag on the nearest bed, just to occupy himself with something other than the fact that he'd just made a lewd joke at what amounted to a stranger.

She shook her head at him. "Don't get too comfortable," she said. "I'm going to eat something, and then that's it, you're gone. On a plane to wherever." She knew the reality, though. Once she explained Shadaloo was after him to whatever law enforcement she took him to, they'd end up interrogating him. After all, if Bison wanted him so badly, he must know something valuable, right? She frowned a little as she thought of the unsavory manner they might try to go about extracting that information that wasn't really there, and it gave her reason to pause. What was she meant to do? How far was she supposed to go to ensure his safety? Everything was a tangled mess, and that seemed par for the course when it came to him.

"Right," he said. "I'd like to use the bathroom, so please don't handcuff me to anything just yet."

A clever response escaped her at the moment. She was too hungry and a bit too drained to think of anything, and just nodded. She saw his bag on the bed, then glanced back at her coat on the desk. Now or never, she supposed. Even though she pulled on the zipper slowly, it sounded like some kind of harsh, grating alarm. Once the bag was open, she slowly pushed aside some of his things-a book, some neatly folded clothes-and set the folder underneath.

She lowered the clothes and book back down, pressing once to ensure they were in place. A scrap of folded up paper serving as a bookmark rustled against the inside of the bag. Remembering the last note she'd found on him, she became curious. A quick glance at the bathroom door confirmed it was still closed. She opened the book and looked at the paper. It seemed old. A bit frayed. Unfolding it, she put a hand to her mouth to suppress a laugh. It was some bizarre drawing. There was a chicken head with big bulging eyes and an open beak. A bowler hat on its head. It had octopus tentacles for arms, one of them clutching a carton of lo mein, the other, a leash. It had shapely legs but bear claws for feet. A demonic looking pet was beside it. A sadistic grin on a feline face. Goblin arms with sharp claws. A big fluffy tail with a pretty bow. Absurd didn't do it justice. Parts of it were obviously drawn by one person, some other parts by another, given how the lines looked. One seemed significantly more proficient at it. In handwriting she recognized as belonging to Cammy, a title had been scrawled: "The loveliest chickenpus lady who ever lived and her delightful kitten who's named Fluffer, on a stroll at Hyde Park, by Cammy and Andr_e_s, 16/3/02"

Maybe she'd been expecting more notes about his future plans. Maybe she thought it'd be blank. She definitely hadn't been expecting the chickenpus lady and Fluffer. Folding the paper back up, she slid it back into it place before putting the book back in the bag and closing it all up. Why had Cammy ever been on good terms with Vega? It was plain to her now what he'd gone to London for. It didn't make her any less curious about the nature of that peculiar relationship, though. She heard the door open, and she quickly stood up, appearing suddenly preoccupied by her phone. She texted a note to herself-ask Cammy about him. The guy's past was a complete mess, and she felt like the kids from that fairy tale following after a trail of breadcrumbs. Didn't they end up getting eaten by a witch at the end? What was she being led to?

"If I offer to buy you dinner, are you going to laugh in my face or punch me in the stomach or something?"

"Maybe, why don't you give it a shot?"

He took a deep, dramatic breath. "...You want some dinner?"

"You'll really pay for it?" she asked suspiciously. She'd been hungry enough to consider anything 'food' at that point. If he was paying, the only limit to what she could eat was her imagination, and that _wasn't _something she was familiar with.

"Can you forge that signature again?"

"Aren't you supposed to be an artist?"

"Artist, not a criminal," he said, wagging a finger at her. "Crooked cop."

"Pretentious professor," she muttered back. It was _his _money after all. Right? God, why was this so confusing? No, she couldn't start to get too caught up in the ethics of stealing from Vega via someone who may or may not have been an alternate version of Vega. Who even had an opportunity in their life to think up a sentence like that? It wasn't helping matters that he was offering this just after she'd read about the horrible life he was supposed to have. There was some ironic joke somewhere in all this-that she could more easily feel pity for this version of Vega, because he was nicer, because he'd never gone through such a traumatic experience. She shook her head, starting to feel mixed up again. "Come on, before I change my mind and eat the next thing I see."

"Good thing the plants in the lobby are all fake, I guess." His voice wavered when she shoved him out into the hall, but he still smiled. Unable to muster one up herself, she thought instead about breadcrumbs, lost children, and the witches who preyed on them.

* * *

Spanish/Catalan names were all made up by googling for lists of names and then ctrl+f'ing a random letter on my keyboard basically so to any people actually from Spain who may read this, if these names seem weird or unnatural, let me know so that I can improve them. Thank you to everybody still reading/reviewing!


	9. Chapter 9

She didn't make him go to a fancy place because she was suddenly gripped by the terror of having someone see them together and think of them as a couple. They weren't even friends, and even then, friends didn't go to ritzy places for an evening of platonic camaraderie. They went to bars where peanut shells littered the floor, or places with names that felt cool and familiar to say, or maybe even sub-par restaurants that were part arcade so they could all get drunk and end the night getting single digit scores in ski ball. He asked her where she liked to eat around here, saying he'd only been to New York a few times. It'd been difficult to come up with an answer and her idea to have him hemorrhage money on this meal seemed like a far away dream now. Finally, she came up with a place she used to frequent when she lived here. It was casual, crowded but not suffocating, and almost all the waitresses spoke Mandarin so it reminded her of home.

They ended up at the bar so she didn't have to look at him and think about the fact that she was bumming a meal off of a man she was supposed to despise. She cursed her own curiosity about him and that report, because all she could see when she glanced at him was his dead dad, mouth agape like a fish and blood leaking out of every orifice in his face because part of his brain had been liquefied by a bullet.

The image had her ordering a drink immediately. Anything to interrupt those thoughts. She'd seen many a crime scene before-some caused by the man sitting next to her-so she couldn't place why this one was sticking with her. Maybe because of the resemblance there was between Vega and his dad. He looked like some perfect midpoint between his parents, so she tried instead to see his mother in his face. But then, she'd seen that woman in a similar state, so it didn't do her any good.

"Are you okay?"

"Peachy keen," she answered. Her drink came and she nodded back in thanks. There was an awkward bit of silence between them as he was obviously somehow in tune with the fact that she _wasn't_ okay. And that just annoyed her.

"Hey," he said suddenly, tapping the menu with a finger. "I can read some of this."

"Wow, every three year old in China is proud of you." She hated when she spoke like that, and winced. She simultaneously wanted to treat him like garbage and tell him how much what happened to him sucked. Didn't give him the right to murder anyone, certainly not, and didn't deter her from wanting him in prison. But it sucked. Maybe no one had told him that, and that was his problem. She knew the power of a kind word, even when it seemed so simple to the person saying it.

"Yes, I've found the pre-school I'll attend, but can't let them know that," he said. "I want to be wined and dined, you know. Make them work for it."

She sputtered and shook her head. Her eyes dropped to the menu. She already knew what she wanted and hadn't even bothered looking at it. "What can you read then?" she asked, nodding down. What good did it do to keep fighting with him? Maybe the real Vega deserved it, but this guy was just trying to get along in a very bizarre, very impossible situation. Much like herself. So why not humor him, just a little?

"That one...is _rice._" He said it like he'd just revealed something meant to strike awe in her, but with self-awareness of how basic his understanding was. He squinted. "Yes, I'll be analyzing Chinese literature in no time, really."

"Come on," she said. "Any effort someone makes to learn about another culture is a good one."

He had a sort of half-smile on his face. "How do you say 'rice', in Spanish?"

She stared at him. "Why would I know that?"

"Any effort someone makes to-" She shoved him lightly and he laughed. "Say it. _Arroz_."

She shook her head. She couldn't make that stupid 'rr' noise. And besides, he hadn't _said '_飯_', _he'd just read it.

"You can do it, come on," he said. He said it slower, like that would make it easier on her.

She shook her head, buying enough time for a waitress to interrupt them and jot down an order. She gave hers in Mandarin, and the young woman asked back, "What's your boyfriend having?" It made her face turn red, and she was grateful that he wasn't going to be able to understand the question. So much for finding comfort in the familiar sounds of home. She shook her head as she told the waitress he wasn't her boyfriend, and that just made her ask, "Ohh, he's single? You know if he's looking?"

"Uh-I don't-He's just a business associate," she said. Was she going to have to watch this girl flirt with him? Because that wasn't something she was interested in seeing.

The girl turned her eyes to him and took his order. He fumbled through the Chinese name of a dish, involuntarily rolling one of the 'r's, and Chun-Li smirked. The waitress said, "Awww, nice, nice, good try, very cute!" The smirk fell a bit. She really, really didn't want to deal with him apologizing to her for someone else making moves on him, like they were together or something. And she couldn't exactly warn the waitress out of getting involved with a guy who might be from a parallel world, and also a serial killer. Vega made messes wherever he went, and she didn't want to have to bear witness to all of them.

Just as if he were waiting for a cue, he said, "Sorry."

She finished off her drink and groaned her way through it. "Why?" she demanded as she set her cup back down. "Why are you sorry? Didn't we cover this ground already?"

There was that stupid puppy dog look again as he raised his eyebrows and looked away. "Right."

She laughed. He was a complete pushover. At least, to her. She recalled his sudden growth of a spine during their conversation with Guile. So he was just that soft for her, and she didn't like the way she suddenly felt a bit empty. Their food couldn't come fast enough so she could get away from him and stop thinking about their screwed up lives and the better things that could've been. She waved to the bartender again and asked for another drink. "Change the topic or I might be sick," she said.

"You think I have a chance of staying alive?" He said it like it'd been weighing on him for awhile, and she supposed it probably had been all day.

"Yes," she said. She paused when the bartender approached, not wanting anyone to catch wind of this conversation. Another nod and smile in exchange for a glass. She looked back over at Vega. "The only problem is that, whoever I take you to, they're going to think you know something. And then _they _will want to know it, too."

She saw the corner of his lip go up, his nostrils flare as he took a deep breath, and his hand sank into his hair. "I don't like the sound of that," he muttered.

She tilted her head as she thought. Maybe with all his parallel universe talk, they'd just call him crazy and stick him in a cell somewhere. "Unless you think you can convince them you're from another reality." She said it with a sort of sarcastic tone, and she saw him lower his eyes and couldn't really hear whatever he muttered. Somehow she'd gotten distracted by something she hadn't really noticed before until now. "You have long eyelashes. Like a girl."

"Thank you."

She burst out into laughter at the polite response, tears springing to her eyes. "You sound so pleased."

He shrugged. "Girls have pretty eyelashes."

"I bet you like being _pretty,_ don't you."

"Sure." He glanced around again, still feeling low over this whole situation. It seemed hopeless, really, especially with this latest revelation that help might not really mean help. Their food came and even that wasn't much of a comfort. The pretty waitress spoke in Mandarin to Chun-Li. She looked less serious about their short conversation this time, smiling a little more and even laughing once. The waitress set his food down and he forced a smile and a thanks.

"She thinks you're cute," Chun-Li said.

"_Bueno_." It wasn't, really. He had nothing against her for thinking that, but it just made him miss his real life.

So his voice was tolerable when he wasn't talking down to her, or using it to spout horrible and disturbing things. "Say more." Who knew when she might get another chance to hear him sound like a normal person?

"_Eres una mujer hermosa_."

"I'm well, and you?" she responded, though she had no idea what he'd just said.

"_Te quiero-"_ He stopped and shook his head. "_E__s complicado_..."

"Well I sort of like the weather here, actually," she answered, still having no idea what he was saying. He smiled, but it was a sad sort of smile, and she hated it. "What!" she demanded.

"_Nada_."

"It'd better be nothing!" she said. "You think because you pop into my life all nice, that you can just say whatever you want!"

"_Lo siento_."

"Gracias bien rrr," she said back. He raised his eyebrows a bit. "Do it. Go, 'rrrr'." She couldn't, but she was certain he knew nothing about proper Chinese intonations, so it felt even. He did it, and she laughed. "Why..." she said, still laughing, leaning her face into her hand. "You sound like a-a swarm of bees!"

"_No se_," he said.

"No sayyy," she repeated. "What's that?"

"I don't know."

"Yeah you do! You're Spanish!"

He smiled again and it was less sad now. "'_No se' __is '_I don't know'."

"Oh haha. Aren't you clever. Clever as a-" She thought. What was clever, again?

"Fox," he supplied.

"Yeah, devious and clever." Devious. That's what he was. He was probably planning something right this minute. Something awful and deadly and evil. She looked down at her food and tried to eat. Her stomach felt suddenly tight, her nerves got the better of her, and she had to look back up at him. "What're you planning?" she mumbled, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Nothing. I just want to go home."

She continued to stare at him, still squinting. He didn't look angry or mean or even amused. He looked sad. She looked back down at her food. "What is wrong with you?"

"I miss you. I miss my life." His voice took a clipped and quiet quality. Like speaking took a degree of effort and he didn't want to be bothered. Better, she supposed, than the real Vega, who probably dismembered people when he got sad. Killed on command, the command from the guy who killed his dad. She was ordering another drink before she even finished the one she had. "Maybe you should go easy on those," he said and somehow that just made her want it more. She certainly wasn't going to take advice and suggestions from _him._

"What's your life like?" she demanded instead of answering him. She already knew some of it, since she'd made him tell her so much.

He inhaled slowly through his perfectly straight nose, not like his dad, with a more aquiline nose. With blood gushing out everywhere on the desk where he wrote letters to his family who hated him for abandoning them. She blinked quickly, forcing herself to focus on the present. "It's good," he said simply."Is yours?"

"Yes," she said quickly. "I like it. Don't want a different one."

He nodded. "Good." But he seemed disappointed, and she had it figured out.

"You're mad that I'm not with you."

His eyes flicked up to hers briefly. "Not mad," he said. "Maybe it's stupid to imagine that I'm always with you, regardless of circumstances."

"You're right, that is stupid," she said, and it made him smile. "Whatever your deal is, things are totally different here. I wouldn't ever love you." She blurted it out, pressing a finger against his arm. It was the truth, and the truth was always the best thing to say.

"Sounds like that's for the better." She watched as he took her glass and downed the rest of that drink. Which transgression did she respond to first? Could she let him get away with taking her stuff-the stuff he was paying for-or did she address his assuming he knew what was best for her?

"It is," she said quickly. "Oh yeah, you might be so charming. You might have pretty eyes. You might have nice hair. You might-" A smile spread across his face slowly, and she felt her cheeks turn red. "What are you grinning at?"

"I think you have a crush on me."

"No!" she said. "I sort of almost hate you, actually!"

He was still smiling. "If you say so."

"I do say so." She held his hand down when her next drink came back. He wasn't taking that one, too. She patted the back of his hand, like he was a dog who'd behaved well.

"You're very cute," he said.

"I know," she said with a sigh. She wasn't as arrogant as him, but felt motivated to pretend. Maybe he'd realize how annoying it was. "Too cute for you."

"Probably."

She got close to his face, squinted at his eyes, and whispered, "Definitely." He let out the slightest laugh, something that could've gone unnoticed if she weren't so close. She felt his breath on her skin and she couldn't decide if it was electrifying or disgusting. His eyes darted away from hers briefly, and when they met again, her stomach suddenly felt empty. How did a person get away with being as attractive as him? Maybe he asked himself the same thing about her. Wasn't that a flattering thought?

Maybe that'd been a little awkward, but she'd gotten caught up in her thoughts. To be sitting beside him and talking calmly with him like he had any vested interest in her was surreal. What mattered to him was how her blood smelled, or some other screwed up thing like that. She twisted her lips together, eyes closing briefly. He laughed and if she hadn't known it was him sitting there, she might think it was a friend. He didn't laugh wildly like he did in the heat of a deadly fight. He didn't laugh politely like he did when he needed to make it clear how nonthreatening he found her. He laughed like Ken when she rebuked him for one of his dumb jokes. He laughed like Yun when she teased his brother about his hair. A potentially good person had been erased from existence, replaced by some monstrous thing dressing itself up like a human. It was the sort of tragedy happening all over the world, every day, and she felt suddenly weak and powerless to affect any sort of change.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

She nodded. "Boo-wane-o." She said it slow and poorly on purpose, like it might annoy him. It didn't, he just nodded as if she'd said something profound and that made her burst into a fit of laughter. Her forehead met his shoulder as she lost her balance, shoulders shaking as she snickered. "Buuueno..." she muttered around her own giggles.

"I think you should make that your last drink," he said.

"I think you should _shut up._"

"Vicious."

"You know it." She pulled on the collar of his shirt a bit as she sat back up. Maybe it was supposed to be a threatening gesture, but it was half-hearted and she knew that as of right now she could probably beat him into submission with both hands tied behind her back. "You could've been such a good person!" she blurted out finally.

He moved some of his food around on his plate with a fork, staring at it like the rice held all the answers if he could line the vegetables up just so. "And you could've been a happier person."

"I'm happy!" she snapped. She didn't need him to tell her how she felt! How arrogant-but then that was practically his middle name wasn't it?

"Maybe," he said. "I just think of who I know. You had your own dreams, things you wanted out of life, and someone stole all of it from you. It's hard to think of something much sadder than that."

She stared at him and wanted to cry because she could be saying the same thing to him. It was better when she didn't know how badly they'd both been ruined by Shadaloo. So she gritted her teeth instead and found the nearest employee, asking for a check. She didn't care that half her meal was still uneaten, she just wanted to end this. It was too hard to be faced with the question of what could have been, or what she really wanted out of her own life. Of course it wasn't her dream to dodge bullets and fists and blades, of course she wanted something better than this. Maybe putting away criminals was a good thing for society, but was she morally obligated to do so? Didn't she deserve to get what she, personally, wanted? Or was that just selfish?

Standing up so suddenly made her feel a little light-headed, and she grabbed him by the shoulder. "Please, get this to go," she said, pointing to her plate. "I have-" She stopped and shook her head. "Going outside." She didn't give him time to ask if she was okay. The answer was no, but she didn't want him to know that.

It was freezing out, but she liked it better than being back in there with all those people. Maybe they were out on dates, out with friends, relaxing over the weekend. Not a thought about crime syndicates and terrorists crossing their minds while they talked about good times shared together, or their plans for the future. She gritted her teeth. What was the point in thinking like this? It was pitiful and pathetic, and she was suddenly angry at herself for it. She needed to get her mind off of speculation and self-pity and put it back to work.

Uncertain how much time she had, she pulled her phone from her pocket and quickly dialed a number. Cammy picked up, and after the usual pleasantries, Chun-Li said, "Maybe this will bother you, lemme know if it does." She was a little uncertain of how to phrase it, and she must've been slurring her words every now and then because Cammy asked, "Are you drunk?"

"A little, but I have work I need to do," she said. Work. That's what this was, not a distraction. It was her job. "Can you tell me about you and Vega?"

There was a brief silence and she felt a bit guilty. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. "I don't speak much to him anymore," Cammy said. Her voice took on a softer tone. Not quite sadness, but something close. Maybe disappointment. Regret. What could she possibly have to regret for that wise decision? Vega didn't deserve someone as kind as her for a friend.

"That's probably for the best," Chun-Li said.

"It's complicated."

"Can you tell me? How did you first meet him again, outside of Shadaloo?" She tried not to speak too loudly, and glanced around as she paced back and forth in a slow, short line. The good thing about big cities was that no one really gave a damn about anybody around them. She could talk into the phone about the most outlandish things and go ignored by every single person walking by.

"At a cafe near my home. After all was said and done, he admitted he'd been going there to keep an eye on me, because he knew I went every day. I remember I'd seen him once or twice before speaking to him."

"You made friends with him?"

"Yes. He was one of the first friends I made, outside Colonel Wolfman who I thought more like a boss at the time. I didn't know who he was, you know? I didn't remember anything about Shadaloo. Sometimes he felt familiar to me but I wrote it off because I felt that way about a lot of things." She stopped for a moment and Chun-Li felt anxious. Vega could come out here at any time, why had she started this conversation now? Work, not a distraction. "He just always had an answer, and I never had any, so somehow it felt like that was good for me. We were like peas in a pod for a good bit of time."

Chun-Li had to grimace at that, but she laughed too. "Psychopaths are good at blending in as normal people." She thought of this alternate version of him, and how normal he was and it suddenly crossed her mind to wonder if he actually was or not. Maybe he was just as sick as Vega, but less violent. Maybe he had his own twisted secrets he was hiding, passing himself off as a nice guy to win her sympathies, to use her for help.

"I know," Cammy said. "But that's not what it was like. I'm sure I can't convince you, but he wasn't just faking. He said that he liked me because I didn't have any pretensions, that he never felt he had to impress me or put on airs for me. That I accepted people as they were."

She couldn't say she believed it. Cammy could be a bit naive, so it seemed possible that Vega was just so good at acting the part that Cammy couldn't tell the difference. She didn't want to say that and risk hurting her friend's feelings, though. "But eventually you figured out who he was, right?"

"Yes," she said, and there was that hint of disappointment again, of regret. "You remember Juni? She was being held by Delta Red, and he ended up being assigned to break her out. I tried to stop them from getting away, chased them down-" She stopped, took a breath. "I caught up with him, managed to get him to the ground, and when I got that mask off, it was like someone had thrown me into a brick wall. I felt so betrayed, so hurt. He'd deceived me, he was the enemy, he was horrible. He'd listened to me anguish over my memory loss, listened to me wonder over and over who I was, what I meant, and he had the answers and never told me. I said I hated him with every ounce of my heart, that he was a sick, disgusting monster unworthy of even the slightest kindness and that I regretted ever laying eyes on him. I crushed him like a bug. He didn't say it, pretended to be amused, but if you were there, you'd have seen how upset he was."

"And that was the last time you two spoke?"

"No," she said with a heavy sigh. "He'd send me things at Christmas, on my birthday, just for the sake of it sometimes. At first I'd throw them away without even looking at them. It wasn't often enough to be a nuisance, and eventually my curiosity got to me. I opened one months after I told him off. It was just a stuffed cat. And he wrote a note. 'I'm sorry.' Can you believe he'd say he's sorry for anything, ever?"

"Well...no," Chun-Li said. That was part of what disgusted her so much. His utter selfishness and disregard for anyone's well-being.

"Well, he did. And you know, I think he wrote it every single time, because the next one I opened had the same message. He was telling me sorry, over and over, hoping I'd eventually read it and somehow exonerate him or something. 'I'm sorry I upset you. I'm sorry I didn't tell you who you were but I thought it was in your best interest to never know.' Like mother hen or something. That's what he was like. I didn't realize at the time that he was teaching me all of these things about basic day to day life because he knew I hadn't been equipped with that knowledge. He knew I needed a very specific sort of help and for whatever reason, he wanted to give it to me."

"You still speak to him?"

"Very rarely. I have his number, he has mine, but I don't recall the last time we actually had a chat. He messages me pictures of cats he sees sometimes, you know?"

She laughed at the image of Vega stopping short in the street at the sight of a stray cat eating out of a dumpster or something, pulling out his phone and taking a picture. Cammy definitely had some kind of effect on him. "Do you think of him as your friend?" It was a dangerous thing to do, she thought. He seemed like the sort of guy who might kill you for pissing him off, and Cammy wasn't always the most tactful individual with her comments. She could see her insulting him and-Well, hadn't she just admitted to doing that? To telling him off? And he still wanted to be her friend, after all of that? It didn't make sense, but then, what about him did?

"I told him I can't look the other way while he hurts people. What we had before I realized who he was-" She stopped herself, kept in a sigh. "I told him we can't have it again, ever, but we could have something close. If he cuts ties with Shadaloo and stops harming people."

She should've just put him in prison, regardless of whether he left Shadaloo. It was the only place someone like him belonged. "You'd forgive everything he'd done if he stopped?" The idea sounded absurd and maybe she'd made that pretty plain by her tone.

"Forget, no, but forgive, yes. Like you and all of my friends have forgiven me."

"You don't think these are two very different situations?"

"This is what I know. Something happened to my mind to make me find it acceptable to kill another person. Something happened to him and did the same. Maybe that's quite a simple perspective, but it's how I see it. I was helped to change my mind. Do you think anyone's tried to help him change his?"

"No," she said, head aching as she thought of his dad and Bison and the mental stress of watching your mom's skull draining out on the floor in front of you before your step-dad starts crushing your throat with his bare hands. "But it's not anyone else's responsibility."

"I don't see it as a responsibility," Cammy said. "I see someone in the same situation I was in. That my sisters were in. A broken brain that needs fixing. No, I can't _make _him change anything. But I can't just forget him. Before I knew anyone else, he made me feel less alone, and I know I did the same for him. I also know what it feels like to be that lonely, and how much it can mean when someone tells you they care about you." Chun-Li was quiet, considering Cammy's perspective, but unable to bring herself to agree with it. Even if Vega was clearly unstable, it didn't mean he deserved some kind of free pass for his crimes. "Why are you asking about all of this, anyway?" Cammy asked finally.

Chun-Li felt her cheeks flush red, and forgot for a moment that Cammy couldn't see her. "I just found some things. In my research."

"Research on...?"

"On him." She blinked a little quicker, her eyes drying in the cold. "I wish I hadn't," she said suddenly. "I wish really badly that I hadn't." What had she been thinking? She'd catch him, she'd have some evidence, she'd end his killing spree and maybe come a little closer to feeling satisfied with her life's work. All she'd found was a past he was trying to run away from, stuff she could've stood to not know. She saw him as he left the restaurant and it was like looking at another person. He didn't look so severe and intense, didn't look capable of ending a life. "I have to go," she said.

"Are you sure? You're alright?"

"Yes," she said. "You're a good person, Cammy. Don't ever forget it." She hung up before the woman could respond. Cammy could probably stand to hear it every so often, given her own turbulent past. Everyone she knew just suffered and suffered and was she going to ever be able to stop it all?

"For you." He held out the carton of leftovers she'd asked him to bring and she took it with both hands. It was kind of warm still.

She hummed to herself as she walked, leading the way back to her room. With her recent luck, it'd be wired with explosives, or someone would stab her as soon as she walked in. Her humming became singing, and she thought it was low enough to be lost with the noise of the city until she heard him ask, "What are you singing?"

She groaned and shoved him back. "Why are you following me?" she demanded.

"My things are in your room."

Oh, what a clever plan on his part. Leave his bag there so she'd have to invite him in and then be trapped with him for a moment. Well, she wasn't that stupid, so she wasn't going to let it happen. She started humming again, hoping he'd stop talking to her, but now she was feeling paranoid. People were out to kill him. And maybe he'd brought that on himself, but why was she letting herself get involved? Guile was right. She remembered suddenly his request about keeping in touch, and pulled her phone back out to message him. 'Still alive and unharmed,' she wrote. She didn't say he was right because he'd rub it in her face. In a friendly way, of course.

There was something really nice about that first blast of warm air when coming in from the freezing cold. She could practically feel her face melting, but it was a good thing. It was dark out, but the lobby was lit nicely, and it was all so perfectly inviting. She let out a breath when the elevator started moving, almost feeling a bit sick. Would she make it back to her room, or would a cable snap, sending them both plummeting to their deaths? She shook her head and closed her eyes tightly to try to ignore the thought. "You're okay?" he asked.

"You don't care," she said. "Stop acting like-" She couldn't finish, and waved her hand instead.

He was quiet, but nodded. The doors opened for her floor, and they stepped out into the hall.

She sighed loudly and turned it into a groan. "I mean Vega," she clarified. This guy wasn't him, and maybe it was unfair to pin Vega's crimes and behavior on him. She patted him on the shoulder as a way to say she didn't mean to snap at him. "You seem alright, whoever you are." She kept herself from telling him anything more than that, like he seemed fairly sweet, and good-humored, at least to her.

He didn't frown, but his eyes said everything as he watched her unlock the door to her room. "Andres," he said quietly. "Can you say it?"

"Do I have to go 'rrr'," she whispered, giggling at the reminder of that linguistic oddity.

"If you want," he said, following her in.

"Andrrrrres."

He laughed, looking down and shaking his head. "Good effort." He pulled her closer, hugging her for as long as she'd allow it. "Thanks," she heard him mumble. Maybe she liked him putting his arms around her. She said his name again, slower, and she pretended he was someone else. Some guy she'd met at dinner tonight. Lost puppy she was taking home. "Sorry." He exhaled quietly, couldn't look at her, like he was embarrassed. "I miss-" He stopped himself. "Miss hearing that."

She let her lips find his for a quick kiss. "What else do you miss?" she asked. Her heart was beating a little faster.

He picked up his bag but didn't want to leave. He'd never felt so alone in his life, and the sudden affection from her was pretty welcome, even if he understood it had more to do with her being drunk and upset than her wanting him around. He held a hand to the side of her face and brushed a thumb over the curve of her cheek. "A lot of things."

"Like...?" She draped her arms over his shoulders, hands clasping loosely behind his neck, and kissed him again. Why was she doing this? She didn't love him-hell she didn't even _like _him. Maybe he was very attractive, but wasn't he still a criminal? Or was he? Confusing didn't begin to describe it, and instead she focused on how he tasted a little bit like coffee, how one of his hands had gone to her waist and how badly he seemed to want her close to him like this.

"Maybe," he whispered before kissing her, almost desperately this time.

"Maybe?" One of her hands falling back down to his chest, pushing him back. He took the hint, hands resting on her hips as he laid back, taking her down with him. Her fingers crept down over his stomach as their lips met again.

"Definitely," he said. One of his hands slid up along her side, over her ribs.

Her thoughts were a whirlwind of dirty words and lewd demands, none of which she had any hopes of getting out in a coherent sentence. Suddenly he took her by the shoulders and pushed her just enough to leave some space between them. She opened her eyes slightly, his were squeezed shut. With her mouth still so close to his, she asked, "What?"

He opened his eyes. "You might regret it."

She let a breath out in a dramatic puff, head dropping to his shoulder. She pressed her hips down against his. "You don't feel like you'd regret it."

"You don't like me," he said. "But I also know you get sort of...friendly when you drink. I don't want you to do something you'll wish you hadn't." She sighed heavily, because he was right and she didn't like him being right about her. He squeezed her hand before putting an arm around her waist. "There are other things to consider, too."

"Like what?"

His fingers brushed some of her hair back out of her eyes and she blinked. "You may look like the person I'm in love with. You might even be her in a sense, but at the same time, you aren't. Wouldn't it be wrong of me to sleep with you?"

She sighed loudly, trying to find his mouth with her hand. She could feel him smiling. Of course he knew she'd regret it. And of course he didn't want to make her upset any more than he already had by just existing. It was all frustrating-her desire for him, her knowledge that she didn't _want _to desire him, the confusion of how, exactly, she was currently defining 'him'. She wouldn't admit she was happy he stopped them, and instead said, "A world where you care about someone else's feelings, that's pretty shocking!"

He didn't say anything, but the statement was definitely enough to quash any lingering feelings of arousal in him. Instead, he idly ran his knuckles along her side, and he felt her shudder. "Why don't we just go to sleep?" he said finally.

She groaned into his chest, then forced her eyes back open, being afforded a lovely view of the wall. She shifted herself slightly, now laying in the bed instead of on top of him, and she draped her arm over his waist. "Someone crossed all your wires. Like disarming a bomb." He didn't say anything. She closed her eyes, listened to his calm and even breaths. His heart beating steadily. She wasn't sure when she fell asleep. And when she woke up, she wasn't sure when she'd done any of this. It was still dark out, and the clock claimed it was past two in the morning. Her head was throbbing and she felt sick to her stomach. As she should, not just for drinking, but for waking up next to him. She was curled up, she'd been clutching his arm to her chest. He'd pulled it away suddenly and she realized now that's what woke her up. He groaned quietly and she thought she'd be sick. He was really there beside her, pressing his palm to his forehead as he rolled onto his back.

What could they have done? How could she let her guard down like that? She sat up. Her mouth was unbearably dry, and it tasted bitter. What else tasted bitter? She looked over at him, her heart beating faster now as she came up with horrifying answers to that question. His shirt was off. She slowly lifted the sheet, he made a noise, and she was relieved to see he still had his pants on. Did that mean he hadn't slept with her? It was the most disturbing thing she ever had the displeasure of asking herself.

She pushed herself out of the bed. An almost empty cup of water was within arms' reach, so she took it. "_¿Dónde estoy?_" His voice sounded different, in a way she really didn't like. She turned back slowly to face him. He pushed himself up and she couldn't keep track of every perfectly shaped muscle rippling under his skin as he moved. She thought of cats. Big ones. Liquid death bottled up in the shape of something beautiful, grace incarnate in every lethal and fluid movement. And when his eyes settled on her, they were the eyes of a predator that'd found its prey.

She muttered out a curse word in Mandarin and she saw his jaw clench.

"What did you do?" he demanded, voice low and threatening. It was him, the real him, and she didn't have time to feel shocked. His hand was around her throat in a flash. She elbowed him in the ribs, kneed him in the stomach, and he lost his grip.

"You stay away from me," she ordered, shooting up out of the bed. Her heart was racing. How lucky she'd been to wake up. He could've snapped her neck. Strangled her. Thrown her out the window as payback for how she'd nearly killed him. He was still on his knees in the bed now, eyes seeming unable to focus. Here it was, the proof that she'd been a fool to cooperate with him. The change was sudden and instant, and now she was going to pay a terrible price for trying to help his counterpart. She balled her fists tightly, ready to defend herself, even if she felt like a sudden movement might have her puking her guts out.

"What is this?" he asked. He seemed to be looking for her but it was like he couldn't really see her anymore. She still shook her head. Why did he think she had any answers? "If you do _anythi-_" And just like that, he changed again. Midsentence, a literal blink of his eyes, and there was someone different in the bed now. Her heart hadn't settled down, and her eyes must've still been wide, because he suddenly looked concerned. "Are you okay?" He sat back down, obviously a little confused.

"God," she whispered as she stared at him. Her hands were starting to shake. She was completely terrified, not just of him, but of her own poor judgement. He'd disarmed her. They'd both been so upset, and she was stupid to try to find some comfort in him, in any version of him. She couldn't do this. It was too dangerous, too weird, why had she ever even considered it?

He ran a hand through his hair, and rubbed his eyes, like he'd just woken up. "You feel sick?"

"You don't even know," she muttered back. She made it to the bathroom, refilled her cup at the faucet before splashing some of it onto her face. It felt nice, but was nowhere near enough. What had she been thinking? Sleep with the guy who told you he wanted to peel your skin off, perfectly reasonable life decision. What risk could there be in blacking out next to the guy who has expressed multiple times his desire to _kill you_? It was time for her to leave him to whoever he ended up with. It wasn't her responsibility to protect him, definitely not. She sighed quietly as she pressed one of the towels against her face. She opened her eyes. Someone else was reflected in the mirror behind her, and it wasn't Vega.

* * *

thank you to everybody reading and reviewing, it really means a lot!


	10. Chapter 10

She let out a scream, not just from being startled. It'd been a weird, long, messed up night, so she thought she earned it. Her foot flew up to meet her assailant in the stomach, and an unfortunately familiar laugh followed. "Aw, you upset someone caught you in bed with that pig?" Her face flushed red. Footsteps stopped short just outside the bathroom. This was not a good time for him to come in here, but she guessed not many people would stay put after hearing someone else scream.

He started to say something. Chun-Li caught a violet gleam before Juri bared her teeth in a smile. "Hey sweet pea. Miss me?" Juri pounced before Chun-Li could even begin to warn him. Her feet connected with his chest and he didn't just fall. He flew, slamming back into the wall so hard it cracked.

"What...the...hell..." he groaned, struggling to roll onto his side. Juri cocked her head, plainly disappointed. It didn't stop her from jumping on him again, one foot on his stomach, one on his chest. He gasped when every breath of air escaped him, and Juri thrust her left foot forward, holding it against his throat. He grabbed her leg, trying to force her off, and she sputtered at how ineffectual he suddenly was.

"Hey, what gives?" she said, throwing up her hands as he choked and sputtered. His legs flailed uselessly, his fingers dug into her calf, and he tried to scramble away from her but couldn't seem to manage it. "When'd you become the biggest wuss on the planet?"

He could only respond with another awful choking noise. "Stop it!" Chun-Li demanded. She kept a defensive stance as she edged her way out into the room. She didn't want to bear witness to a murder, but she wasn't so certain she'd be able to do much against Juri on her own.

"Awww, that's so sweet, sticking up for your favorite scumbag like that!" Juri clasped her hands together, forcing an overly-saccharine smile before blowing a raspberry. "So sweet I might puke." She looked down at him and twisted her lips into a frown. This was supposed to be fun for her, but he wasn't fighting back. At least, not very hard. Definitely not the sort of challenge she'd been expecting. She drew her foot from his throat and he coughed, hand flying to it immediately.

Maybe some of the noises he made were Spanish words as he struggled to get out from under Juri. She let him, and that just worried Chun-Li more. If she wanted to kill him, she could have right then and there. Maybe it was just overconfidence. Maybe there was something very nasty in the works. Vega made it to his feet and Juri laughed wildly at the frantic display. He was actually _scared. _"So tired of this, all of these ridiculous people," he muttered, backing away from her. He held up a hand as if that would ward her off. "Who are you, and why do _you _hate me?"

Her lip curled back. "Uh, hello? What do you mean 'who am I'? Your favorite Juri. 'Mi arañita'. Duh?"

His eyes widened a little. "_You _are Juri? The one who wants me dead?"

"...Yeah. What happened to you, inhale too many fumes during your last chemical peel?"

He shrugged without thinking. "I thought you-" He waved a hand. "You're just so little."

Chun-Li glanced back and forth at the pair. He was kind of oblivious. And Juri's face was set like stone. That stoic look Juri wore was something Chun-Li rarely saw, and it was generally followed by something very nasty. Her stomach was in knots as she watched Juri creep forward a bit, and she suddenly felt completely vulnerable. She could hear her pulse in her ears as Juri took another agonizingly slow step towards him, jaw set, and he cautiously took a step back. She took another step, eyes burning with fury and he backed himself into the desk, seeming to finally realize what a volatile situation he'd put himself in by making that comment. She stared up into his face, and in a low voice she practically growled, "_That's _what _she _said." Her knee flew up in a flash and before Vega had time to be confused with the response, he was sucking in a breath, doubled-over, and cradling his crotch. Juri laughed like a loon as she turned away from him, hand slapping her thigh once before turning back around. "Oh man, oh, you set me up for that, didn't you? You totally did, I know it!"

"The fuck is wrong with _everyone _in this place," he said in a strained voice through gritted teeth, still bent over in pain. He hissed again and Chun-Li did her best to sympathize, but it wasn't a kind of pain she was familiar with. And she was a bit relieved Juri hadn't just shattered his sternum with her foot instead.

"Don't sweat it, hombre, your balls should be the least of your worries," Juri said. Her eyes flicked over to Chun-Li. "Or has someone already got them in a jar somewhere?"

"That's disgusting," Chun-Li said, though she knew she shouldn't give Juri the reaction she wanted.

"Oh yeah Miss Priss? I think your standards are a bit less rigid than you'd have us all believe." Juri waved a hand over at Vega. If looks could kill, he may have been useful, but as it stood now, Chun-Li knew he wouldn't be much help against Juri. "When my assassin made it back talking about some 'hot Chinese lady with a mean kick' protecting the target, I thought he was blowing smoke. And, now, I know one of my eyes is fake, but they both _work_ just fine, and I saw you guys asleep together. So good on you for teaching an old dog-" she kicked Vega in the ribs and he sputtered as he hit the floor again. "New tricks."

"It was just one mistake," she said. She had to, because she knew Juri wouldn't leave it alone until she got some kind of response. It was better to call it what it was than to fly off the handle. Juri wanted her to be angry, so why give that to her?

"Maybe you should make that mistake with _me _sometime," Juri said, raising an eyebrow. Her face contorted into a mask of rage when she noticed Vega was still moving, and she kicked him in the side again. He winced and she grabbed a handful of his hair so she could snarl in his face, "Stay down you piece of human garbage!" The change in tone from playful to enraged happened quick enough to make Chun-Li's head spin.

"I don't know what-" he tried to say and it only made Juri angrier. She kneed him in the jaw and Chun-Li winced at the audible crack of his teeth crashing together. A strangled noise crawled its way out of his throat before Juri took him by the hair again. She bent over at the hips, leaning in towards his face.

"Don't know what?" she said in a kind voice which again quickly receded back to a primal sort of disgust. "Don't know why I despise you?" She threw his head back against the wall and Chun-Li winced again, this time at the way his eyes rolled around in his head a bit before he started blinking rapidly. Juri tried to take hold of him by the jaw, but he shook his head away. "You're not just a Shadaloo pawn, you're a coward. Too afraid to show the world what you really are. Well, _I_ know what you are. You're Bison's killer for hire. And you don't care _whose _life you ruin!" Juri's reasoning wasn't terribly consistent-being a murderer herself but apparently finding Vega revolting for the same reason. It made her nearly impossible to predict. But Chun-Li had learned not to expect consistency from these deranged people her line of work brought her up against all too often.

"_No mat-_I don't kill anybody, okay?" he said, and his voice sounded a little foggy. Juri cocked her head. "I know-I'm not the guy you're after."

"Yep. A coward," Juri said. "And cowards are the worst."

"Juri, stop," Chun-Li said.

"Oh, really?" She crossed her arms and turned to face Chun-Li. "You're going to tell me _not _to kill him? Like you don't hate his guts? Like you don't wish he was dead? You know who he works for, right? Bison! The bastard who destroyed our families! And he's so eager to please, just like a _good _little tool!" She emphasized the complaint with another kick. Chun-Li saw blood on the carpet now. She had to do something quick, or Juri was going to finish him off.

"You want justice?" Chun-Li said. "Then do it right. This isn't just, this is vengeance. It's torture."

"And that's exactly what he deserves! It's what every piece of shit in Shadaloo deserves!" She wrenched him back up by his hair and he tried to resist her. It didn't work. She got one hand around his throat, pinning him against the wall, and smiled viciously at the sight of the blood on his lips. "You know that, don't you? It's not enough that you have to die. You have to die painfully."

"I'm not a murderer," he managed to say in spite of the pressure of her hand against his throat. "I'm not-_not_ the right guy."

"Oh I don't forget a face as pretty as yours, hombre," Juri said. "That'll be the first thing to go."

His eyebrows shot up at that. Being killed was frightening enough, but he couldn't imagine anything worse than being tortured first. He tried to kick her away, and was surprised when his knee actually made contact with her stomach. But she just laughed and taunted him to try again, amused by how suddenly useless he was.

"Juri, he's telling the truth!" Chun-Li said, finally trying to engage her physically. It was just a hand on her free arm, trying to pull her away from him. But even that could be enough to switch Juri's focus. It was risky, to be in that woman's crosshairs, but she had to do something. No one deserved the kind of treatment Juri doled out. "This isn't really him," she said. It sounded absurd, and Juri had no good reason to believe her. What else could she do but try? "If you want to punish Vega, then you've got the wrong person."

Juri raised an eyebrow, glancing briefly at Vega before returning her eyes to Chun-Li. "You're losing touch."

"Think about it-even you were startled when he didn't fight back," Chun-Li said. "Why wouldn't he fight you? You know he's more than capable, and you know he doesn't take that sort of treatment lying down."

Juri didn't want to consider it, not when she had her prey at the end of her arms, teeth bared like a frightened dog, eyes squeezed shut like a little kid trying to block out a nightmare. There _was _something different about him, something even she noticed in just a few minutes of interaction, but she didn't care. Whoever he _thought _he was now-new lease on life, mental issues, drugs, whatever-he still deserved to die, and that was all she could focus on. "You know, I just don't give a damn who he thinks he is." She dug her fingers into his throat and he winced. With that firm grip, she pulled him away before slamming him into the wall again. The hotel certainly wasn't going to be pleased with their treatment of the room, and Juri giggled at the image of a staff member tutting quietly at the bloody and cracked walls, the stains on the carpet and a corpse on the floor. Or maybe parts of a corpse. She hadn't really decided how to end him just yet. Planning too far ahead could only box her in and limit her creativity.

Chun-Li knew reasoning with Juri probably wasn't viable, but she had to say she'd tried. Without any other options, she took Juri by the arm and shoved her back towards the bed. Her eyes widened, apparently startled by Chun-Li's interference. "You _have _to stop, now," Chun-Li demanded in as authoritative a voice as she could muster. If she was being honest with herself, she was pretty frightened. Juri was strong, almost inhumanly so, thanks to Seth and the Feng Shui engine. But she just didn't have it in her to watch someone get tortured to death.

"Oh, babe, you don't know what you're getting yourself into," Juri warned in a low and dangerous voice. "I like you, so I'll give you one shot. You don't want to see me break that pig's neck, then you don't have to. Just walk out the door and pretend you never saw us here, it's easy." She gestured towards the door and raised an eyebrow, but Chun-Li shook her head.

"You know I'm not going to."

"God damn it, how can you do this?" Juri cried, throwing out her hands and stomping a foot. Chun-Li thought of a temperamental child who wasn't getting their way. Only this kid killed people when they threw a tantrum. "Don't you get it?! He has to die, everyone in Shadaloo, they _have _to die!"

"You think that's going to bring your family back?!" Chun-Li demanded, unable to keep her voice from getting a bit shrill to compete with Juri's. "You think it's going to fix your life if you get rid of the people who destroyed it?"

"Isn't that what _you _think?" Juri said. "That if you get Bison and all his minions in jail, you'll do your dead daddy justice? Don't talk down to me about _my_ motivations when you haven't even examined your own!"

Chun-Li shook her head, lips pressed together into a thin line. No, her quest to end Shadaloo wasn't comparable to Juri's. It couldn't be. Her work against them was for everyone, not just for herself. And the means mattered just as much as the end. That was the difference between her and Juri that she had to focus on. She couldn't start to doubt herself now. "I can't make you change your mind, but I can't let you loose to go off and kill more people."

Juri bared her teeth in another awful, mocking grin. "Right, that privilege is reserved for the criminals you want to fu-"

There was a sudden movement that startled both of them and a wild, frustrated shout as Vega slammed the empty trash bin on top of Juri's head. She lashed out almost instantly, a foot meeting him in the stomach. He fell back, and Chun-Li took the chance that'd been presented to her. Juri was cursing as she pushed the bin off of her head, and cried out angrily when she felt Chun-Li sweep her off of her feet with a low kick. "Run you idiot!" Chun-Li shouted to Vega as she shot back up to her feet. He didn't have to be told twice, but she was really surprised he had to be told at all. Like he was waiting to make sure she got out, too.

She kept her eyes forward as they flew down the hall. The stairs were at the opposite end, naturally, but they had a small head start here. If they could get out of here, maybe they could lose Juri. But where would they go? An enraged roar from behind them was punctuated by a hollow, crashing noise as the garbage can slammed into the wall of the corridor. Chun-Li looked over her shoulder in time to see it topple to the floor, side dented, and she shook her head. Focus was going to make or break this escape. Focus was key. "What the hell is wrong with that girl?" Vega asked around ragged breaths as they ran.

"Like we have that kind of time right now," Chun-Li muttered under her breath as she pushed open the door to the stairwell. She caught a glimpse of a purplish blur racing towards them and it only made her heart beat faster. They had to be quick here. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure Vega was still following her down the stairs. He looked terrified, but he was still there. They'd made it down one floor when the door above them slammed open, clattering noisily into the wall. The stairwell was alive with the cursing and screaming of their would-be assassin. Threats of disembowelment and broken bones, peppered with words in Korean that Chun-Li could imagine were just as colorful. "Faster," Chun-Li demanded, pulling on his arm.

"No, I thought we could take it slow!" he snapped back. "After all, I've always wanted to know what it feels like to be turned into soup by someone's feet!"

"Positive, think positive," she said around breaths. The floors flew by, they swung round from one staircase to the next in tight circles, as close to the inside as they could. But they still weren't moving fast enough for Chun-Li's liking. Juri was closing, and when they got close enough to the first floor, she could jump down and effectively block their exit. Getting away from her once was a lucky break. It probably wasn't going to happen twice. "Just jump!" she cried finally when they made it to the second floor. She could've maybe gotten away with jumping from one floor up, but was fairly certain he wouldn't. What good would it do her to get this invested in protecting him to shove him off a staircase and have him break his neck? She vaulted over the rail, a jolt running through her when her feet hit the floor. She wasn't even wearing shoes, she realized, and somehow that made her laugh. People liked to say 'it's the little things' and she supposed this is what they meant. He fell in a heap beside her and it made her wonder how much time and energy the real Vega had invested in becoming so fluid and graceful. "Oh my god, you're like a cow," she muttered as she practically dragged him by his arm towards the door.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realise I was a member of the Cirque du god damn Soleil in this life!" he shouted as he made it back to his feet and reached for the door.

Another pair of bare feet hit the cold floor behind them. Chun-Li saw a blur of purple and black and with every bit of strength she had, she shoved Vega forward and pulled the door shut behind her. She gasped, startled when Juri's foot made contact with it, wood splintering noisily from inside. "Keep going," she ordered, taking off towards the lobby. Chun-Li was beginning to lose track of how much she'd been running just in these past few days alone. It came with the territory of being a cop, and she figured, at least, it meant she was in good shape. Her legs may have been aching and her neck may have been sore, but she didn't let any of that slow her down. She glanced back at Vega, who she tried to remind herself had it a bit worse in this instance, as evidence from the blood drying around his lips.

The lobby was blessedly empty, as could be expected so late in the night. The clerk at the desk glanced away from the computer in time to see three different people-all of them barefoot-tearing through the lobby. He managed to open his mouth by the time they disappeared out the door.

The sidewalk was so cold it went full circle back to burning when her bare feet touched it. Tiny grains of salt embedded themselves briefly in her skin only to fall away with her next step. Chun-Li tried to keep her focus on the pavement. All this snow and ice could easily lead to them slipping, and then it'd all be over.

"You two are really starting to piss me off!" Juri snarled as she chased them. She'd had them right in her grasp, and she knew, one way or the other, she'd accomplish what she'd come here for. Whether Chun-Li ended up killed in the crossfire wasn't of terrible concern to her. She had her preferences, but her desire to see every member of Shadaloo dead far outweighed her appreciation for a pretty girl, even one so intriguing.

Their toes were getting numb. The cold air they drew in through their mouths left their throats raw and sore. Chun-Li racked her brain trying to find some way to lose Juri. The only place she'd be willing to lead them into was a police station. She thought it might be worth trying, given that Juri would be severely outnumbered. Maybe that would be enough to deter her. But even if it was, where was the nearest one? And what if that _wasn't_ enough to intimidate Juri? What if she ended up massacring everyone there? Could Chun-Li have that on her conscious? There had to be a different way to lose Juri that didn't involve putting others at risk.

Then she saw it up ahead, on the other side of the road. Stairs descending beneath the city. An idea was quickly building itself together in her mind, but would it work? Would she be able to keep Juri at bay until the train showed up? At this time of night, it was their best hope of covering a long distance in a way that Juri wouldn't be able to keep up with. "Come on!" she managed to say in spite of how stiff and unresponsive her face felt. She tugged on his arm lightly, afraid that even the slightest amount of pressure would send this enormous klutz stumbling to the pavement face-first. She looked out across the street for traffic. A pair of headlights sailed by in the opposite lanes. Then they were clear, safely across the street.

They practically tumbled down the stairs, fingers slowly losing their dexterity, lips stiffening, toes painfully cold. "We can't let her on the train," she managed to say. She could hear an automated announcement echo through the practically empty station as they jumped over the turnstiles.

"_That _is your plan?!" he cried. That was all it took for doubt to begin to chew at her insides. What was she thinking? Why had she led them back into a trap instead of to the police? How could she expect that they, with their frozen fingers and feet and stiffened muscles, could possibly keep Juri Han at bay for as long as twenty minutes? It'd been a spur of the moment decision, and at the time had seemed like a good one. But now they were stuck here until the train left, and they had to be sure Juri wasn't on it with them.

"Do you have a better one?" she asked as they made it to the tracks.

"Ayyyyy-" He broke off into a quick string of Spanish, tangling his hands into his hair and keeping his eyes glued to the entrance of the platform.

"Yeah, exactly," Chun-Li muttered, keeping her back to the tracks. They needed to stay as close to the train as possible. If they missed it, she wasn't sure if they'd be able to take another twenty minutes of fighting with Juri.

"Listen, if I die-"

"You aren't going to die," she said. She was determined now, after all of this, to not let Juri kill him. He seemed on the brink of a panic attack already, and that wasn't a good state to be in during a fight. "Try to relax. Take deep breaths. That kind of thing. We'll be okay."

"I swear when this is over, I am going to get you to teach me how to fight like you, I swear."

She couldn't help but smile. Something about the desperate way he said it, combined with the absurdity of the idea of Vega asking her to be his martial arts teacher, was a bit of relief in the tense situation. "It's a deal," she said. He didn't respond, just took in a few shaking breaths through his lips. Tension shot through every muscle in her body when she saw Juri finally catch up with them. Chun-Li took a proper stance to show she wasn't going to back down.

"I think you're both idiots if this is your great plan or whatever," Juri said. A blur of purple and black, Chun-Li's breath caught in her throat, she shoved Vega away and fell back. The ground where they'd been was laced with fissures. She caught a glimpse of Juri, her face frighteningly blank. Chun-Li had apparently become the primary target now, given the way Juri's line of sight never seemed to leave her. Another blur, and she bolted, passing to the other side of station. Her back was to the wall, the last place she wanted to be if the train showed up. Chun-Li considered going back up, but quickly scrubbed the idea. This was the plan and she didn't really have a better one.

Juri pointed to Vega without taking her eyes away from Chun-Li. "So I lost my temper with the trash can thing, but kudos to you for surprising me. Didn't see it coming. I mean, you can't blame me right, she's a pretty good distraction."

Chun-Li kept her eyes on Juri, even if it was a bit uncomfortable with the way those violet eyes roved over her. The woman was standing with her back to the tracks, daring them to approach with a mischievous grin. She knew she had the advantage. Vega was basically nothing of a threat anymore, and that essentially made this a one on one fight. Not a position Chun-Li enjoyed being in. She didn't break her stance, but said nothing, focusing instead on any hint of movement, even the slightest twitch of any one of Juri's muscles. It was only for a moment that none of them moved, but it felt like forever. Every breath seemed like it went on for days, her stomach never seeming to settle, the lump in her throat never seeming to shrink, the sweat from her palms never seeming to dry.

Juri's knees bent briefly before she launched herself at Chun-Li. She ducked, a foot whistling just past her head and tearing instead into the wall. If her buns had been in tact, Juri's foot would've caught on them. Chun-Li struck out, sinking an elbow into Juri's ribs. A slender arm came around her neck, and she was trapped in a headlock. She pushed off the ground with both feet forward, planting them in the wall before pushing off to flip backwards. Juri's hold broke, Chun-Li was on solid ground again, the tracks behind her.

She caught the foot Juri swept out towards her head. The second one left the ground and she didn't have time to react. The world got dark at the edges for a brief moment. Another kick to her stomach and her back hit one of the cement posts, the wind rushing out through her raw throat. She felt a pressure against her abdomen as she tried to push herself away, and she realised Juri had her pinned there with one foot. "We're gonna have some fuu-un," Juri said in a soft, sing-song voice. She pulled back her leg and slammed her foot once again into Chun-Li's stomach. She doubled over in pain, but was pulled up by her hair. The woman just moved too fast for anyone to compete with. Juri patted her on the cheek, cracking a toothy smile and holding her by the chin.

Briefly, she wobbled as Vega tried to pull her away, but it amused her more than anything else. "Stop it!" he demanded, even though he hadn't been able to get her to budge.

Juri laughed. "Oh, you'll get yours, hombre, don't worry!"

"First, it's '_om-bray', _you don't say the h, you idiot," he said. Chun-Li didn't like the way Juri's face suddenly shifted. A grin turned to a curled lip with bared teeth, nose wrinkled just slightly, nostrils flared. "Second-" She elbowed him in the face before he could bother her further. He groaned loudly, cupping his hands over his nose and mouth.

"Stay down and shut up, you piece of shit," she snapped. Her voice softened only slightly as she turned back to look at Chun-Li. "I'm busy." Her fingers dug into Chun-Li's jaw painfully. Desperately, she brought up a knee to try to separate them, but Juri laughed, leaning away. She only just grazed the other woman's waist. She tried again, kicking out low at the ankles. Juri caught her leg with her own, hooked behind Chun-Li's knee, and yanked hard as she pushed on her face. Chun-Li managed to catch herself before she hit the ground, her wrists aching briefly from bearing the entirety of her weight. Something slammed hard into her ribs and she cried out. She rolled away, but was stopped by the post beside her.

The squealing and rumbling of the train echoed down through the tunnel and hope surged through her. Maybe they could do this. They weren't dead yet, so that had to count for something. The sound seemed to put Juri into overdrive, and Chun-Li found herself seized by the collar of her shirt. Again her world briefly went dark as the back of her head was thrown into the post. Vega tried to help, but Juri was just too strong. She was an intimidating enough opponent for people who knew what they were doing. Someone like him didn't stand a chance. He tried to land a punch and Juri smashed her foot into his stomach. Chun-Li took the distraction, tried to stand steadily on her feet, and found the world was spinning just the slightest bit. She focused, eyes settling on Juri, who'd just finished kicking Vega in the ribs a few times. She didn't like the way he screamed at that last one, and thought maybe he wasn't going to make it after all and she'd been naive to think they'd make it out alive. His fingers dug into his side and his eyes were squeezed shut, blood stained the cement below.

Chun-Li planted one foot firmly in the floor, focusing on her target and nothing else. Quick as she could, she kicked out at Juri. The first connected in her lower back, the second in her side as she turned to face Chun-Li. The third was caught and she was shoved roughly backwards. She lost her balance, but turned it into a back handspring with a cry, and was upright again, resuming her stance, even though the train station spun madly around her. Her eyes flicked over to the train as it shrieked noisily to a stop.

"No," Juri growled, recognizing that determined look on her opponent's face. She wasn't going to lose them, not when she was this close. She dashed forward. Chun-Li pushed off the ground, one foot planted into the post Juri had trapped her against before. Chun-Li tried to get Vega to his feet and he made another awful, pained noise. Juri gritted her teeth and bolted towards them as the doors of the train opened.

They made it in, but they weren't alone. Chun-Li screamed as she intercepted Juri, every ounce of strength she had going to forcing the other woman out of the train. Juri was shouting unintelligible threats, incensed by the sudden realisation that she might lose this fight. Each muscle in Chun-Li's body strained against her deceptively small opponent, and for a moment, she feared they'd be trapped on the train with her. Suddenly, Vega was beside her, grabbing for whatever part of Juri was in reach. As soon as he had a hold, they both shoved at once, and Juri screamed as she stumbled out of the train.

"Get the door!" Chun-Li gasped, unsure how much longer they'd stay open. There was barely anywhere to grip on the metal surface, but they hadn't come this far to give up now. Palms braced against the cold trim around the windows, they pushed. Juri's fingers snaked through the crack between the doors. Chun-Li gritted her teeth and growled through them from the exertion. Vega was taking in sharp, shallow breaths and he made a noise somewhere between a groan and a scream. Suddenly, the train announced the next stop, the hydraulics hissed and lent a hand. The doors were shut, a beautiful barrier between themselves and certain death. Juri glared through the glass and with a shout, kicked the doors. They both jumped back at the indentations that were punched through the metal. The train began to move, and Juri receded from view, making a threatening promise with her eyes alone. They were safe, but for how long?

* * *

Thank you everybody who has been reviewing and reading along, sorry i haven't been replying very well but do know all your comments are much appreciated and motivational!


	11. Chapter 11

She gasped for breath and almost couldn't believe they'd made it away from Juri alive. Somebody else at the very end of the car was staring at them like they were both insane, and maybe they were. The man turned his wide eyes away from her when she looked at him, pretending to suddenly be very absorbed in his phone. She sighed but didn't offer any explanation. If he wanted to call the cops, so be it. It wouldn't be the worst thing that happened that night. She fell heavily into a seat, every muscle sore and aching, toes cold and numb, her head exploding with pain every time she moved her eyes. Still, she forced herself to open them and glance over at Vega. If the real him came back, she'd be dead. She wasn't in any condition for another fight with a tough opponent, but she had to be prepared all the same.

He was bent over in his seat, head between his knees, arms wrapped tightly around himself. "Are you alright?" she asked, though the answer was pretty plain. Neither of them were, but at least she knew how to defend herself and to better absorb the impact of a kick. He may as well have been a punching bag, for as much as he moved around when Juri attacked him.

"I think I'm bleeding internally. I've never had to say that before, you know?" He sat back up and sank in his seat. "This hurts a lot."

"Where?" She watched as he took a hold of his ribs on his left side. "You probably broke one of them."

"_I _probably broke one of them?" he cried. "That crazy, murderous psychopath probably broke one of them!"

Chun-Li pressed her lips together at his tone, but nodded. "Fair enough." She took another survey of the train. Couldn't be too careful. But no, still empty, aside from the guy who was trying his best to ignore them. "We'll get to a hospital, then the police."

"Yes, more hospitals, love it," he muttered, eyes roving over some of the ads in the train. How trivial the flu seemed now after just escaping certain death in a manner befitting a grape at a wine distillery.

"Do you have a better suggestion?" she asked, not really in the mood for sarcasm.

"I'm sorry my tone is not so great, but this night took a very terrifying and screwed up turn, so-" He stopped and shook his head.

"And I'm trying to be understanding that you aren't quite used to this," she said.

"It's completely insane that you _are _quite used to this."

"There's the pot calling the kettle black." She knew she should've had a bit more patience, but the events of the night were catching up with her. The frustration of dealing with him and how he was making her feel were bad enough. Then Juri had to come along and amplify everything by nearly killing them and humiliating her for being in the same bed as him. _Why _had she done that? And _why _did she have to do it the same night Juri decided to drop in, making sure that someone out there would know about her embarrassing slip up forever?

"What is that supposed to mean!" he snapped suddenly and she'd be lying to herself if she said it hadn't startled her. He looked almost like his old self for a moment, and she had to watch him closely to make sure he wasn't. "I'm not insane. Don't you ever call me insane," he demanded suddenly, finger in her face. He sighed angrily, then winced and sat back.

Maybe it was a better idea to diffuse the situation than to make it worse. She'd obviously pushed some buttons there. So she nodded slowly, even though it sent sharp pains racing along her skull. "That was uncalled for. I don't know you so I shouldn't say things like that."

He seemed to be looking everywhere but at her. He laughed a little, and immediately regretted it. His fingers went to his lips briefly. When he looked at them, the tips were stained red and he rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you want to call me crazy. _Mira-_your life doesn't exactly seem all that normal if it involves people like that." He nodded back at the mangled door resulting from Juri's footwork.

She didn't choose to associate with people like Juri. Or did she? Again she was struck with a thought about whether or not her own dreams-or even her own safety-were less important than her self-imposed duty as a cop. Were the two mutually exclusive? She had chosen, in a way, to associate with the absurd and the deranged, because she persisted in her quest to serve justice to them. Was that all she wanted out of life? Were her own personal ambitions somehow less worthy of realization because they weren't as noble? She looked over at him, still studying his fingers, and didn't really know how to respond.

He let his hand fall to his lap and he sighed again. "That wasn't fair to say to you. I was angry. But-" His eyes fell to the place between his feet. "You're right anyway."

"What do you mean?"

"That I'm crazy. Maybe I am. I don't want to think that. But I might be, you know." He cocked his head a little, but he wouldn't look at her.

So maybe that wayward thought about his sanity wasn't so far-fetched or paranoid after all. She had to wonder for a second what it meant about Vega, unable to be normal even in an alternate universe. But that was just a detective looking for patterns. There were no answers for her there, no clues, just absurdity. "Tell me." She had no good reason to think he would. No good reason to even want to know, other than curiosity.

He glanced up at her finally and shrugged. "I was-" He squinted a bit as he thought of the right words. Or maybe it had to do with the pain in his ribs. She couldn't really tell. "All of the things with my mom." He didn't miss the way her skin seemed to get a bit pale when he said it, but he didn't know why. "You don't know, right," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. "She had cancer. It was very much a 'when not if' situation but I didn't want to admit that. Nobody wants to say 'there's nothing I can do', right?"

She nodded, knowing that feeling very well. "When my dad died, all I could think of were all the things I could have done to prevent it."

He nodded back. "You start to think you could have done something, you could have fixed it, and everyone all around you is saying, 'oh no, it's not your fault, not your fault' but they don't get it. First I think I was normal about it, but stressed. I went back, forth, back, forth, every day to see her, go back to school, study, back home, blah." He drew a hand over his face and a sad sort of smile tugged at her lips after hearing Vega's normally refined and meticulous voice let out such a noise. "It caught up to me. I was getting sick all the time and getting-" He waved his hand towards her. "I was real impatient with you. It wasn't fair, that I was snapping at you all the time, but you put up with it. You're too good. I still think that all the time, you're too good and I don't deserve you. But I don't know if anybody on the planet does."

She swallowed hard but didn't say anything. What could she say, anyway? Thanks? In the middle of his spiel about his dying mother and degrading psyche?

"When she died it was at first like-how can I say it? Like that wasn't what happened. She wasn't dead. It didn't feel like reality to me. I was living in a different place than everybody around me. That's the only way I can put it, I think. And then it's like I was snapped out of it. If you took out a puzzle piece but the rest was in tact, I was the missing piece, and everybody around me was still together, in real life. I-" He inhaled sharply then winced, teeth gritting for a second. "I tried to kill somebody. I don't know if I'd actually have done it but that's scary to think of. This guy, Ramirez, I broke into his house, I don't even know who he is, to be honest, but I remember it's like my feet went and I followed them and then I'm at this man's door and when I saw him, my brain exploded. 'You killed her, you did this, I saw you'. The scariest thing is how real it was. I felt like it was true. She was never sick, she was killed. I could see it in my head, like a memory, him shooting her and shooting at me, strangling me."

She didn't mean to stare, but it was a little difficult. How had he found his way to the guy who'd murdered his mother in this reality? "You're sure you didn't know him?" He looked at her, like he was surprised she was paying attention. "I mean..." She took a breath herself and decided to get right down to it and tell him about his alternate life. "Here, in this reality, that man did kill your mother."

"No," he said simply. "It's a thing I made up to feel like I could have control of an uncontrollable situation."

She shook her head slowly. "Maybe in your world. But here, your dad left your mom when you were young. Your mom ended up remarrying. And the man she married ended up killing her."

As she spoke his head came to rest in his hands. "I'm going to throw up. I spend all this time trying to convince myself all of that, it was a delusion, and you're trying to tell me it's not."

"Wait," she said, holding a hand up. "Now, I didn't say that. I can't tell you something like that. I'm just telling you what happened in this reality. That it's a bizarre coincidence that you ended up trying to do the same thing your alternate self did here, even though you never had any contact with Ramirez."

"Trying to do?" he echoed.

"Vega, the one I know. He killed Ramirez."

"What a great guy."

She shrugged. What could she really say? "I guess...it was a life or death situation. I'm sure it was your-his last resort."

"How do you know?"

"I've read the police report on it. What Vega did wasn't really premeditated. His life was in danger." She couldn't say the same for the rest of the people he ended up killing, but it wasn't exactly a great time to bring that up. She crossed her legs to try to warm her frozen toes beneath her. The train came to a brief stop, and the only other passenger besides them darted off. She watched, a bit tense that maybe Juri had found her way here. But no one got on. The doors shut and they were moving again.

"It's terrifying, hearing all of this. If it's real, I mean, and not just my mind going-" He made a spiraling gesture with his finger and shrugged.

"I've got a good head on my shoulders, and I'm pretty sure this is all real."

He laughed as he sat back. He was smiling but it wasn't a very happy one. "That's the thing, _coneja. _It all seems real, until someone tells you it isn't."

She shuddered at that word, coneja. She hated it, and Vega knew it. But this guy shouldn't. "Don't call me that, alright?"

"Yeah, sorry." But then it seemed to hit him. "How do you know what it means?" He must've been able to figure out she knew it was something that, maybe, he meant as affectionate. Vega meant it as a threat. Helpless as a bunny, at the mercy of a predator's tearing claws.

"He's called me that before," she said quickly. "It's like a rabbit, right?"

He nodded. "Why would I-or, I mean, he-"

"Because he knows it bothers me."

"Well the worst thing you can do is let any iteration of me know what annoys you, because I'm going to use it to my advantage, you know?"

She wrinkled her nose at him and shook her head. "That's rude."

"Okay. I know. But at least, when I say it, I know it only bothers you a little and a part of you appreciates it. I mean, my version of you."

"Yeah, well, I definitely don't, not after he threatened to skin me like one."

He covered his face with his hands but wailed something in Spanish. It was sometimes hard to remember he didn't know about the finer details of his alternate self's violent and disturbing habits. She wasn't sure if it did either of them any good to talk about it, so she shook her head. "Forget I said any of this."

"Why has someone not-not-" He waved his hand, unable to finish the sentence. "I mean...I sound horrible. I sound like a monster."

Her eyes met his and she could almost picture this last little thread of hope he had for himself snapping when she said, "Well...you are."

He went back to refusing to look at her. His fingers drummed on the cold seat beside him. Neither of them said anything for a moment, the cab filled with the rumbling sound of the train on its tracks. She pressed her lips together and sighed, glancing at the car around them. How had she ended up here? On an empty train in the middle of the night, beaten and bruised, with one of her most hated enemies sitting across from her. She pulled herself to her feet and sat beside Vega-or Andres, she decided. It wasn't fair to keep calling him by a name he clearly wasn't responsible for. "Look," she said in a lower voice, and he nodded to show he was listening even if his eyes were flicking back and forth across the window. "You aren't him. You don't have to be anything like him. Maybe I don't know how all of this...parallel world stuff works but what I do know is that we all make our own choices, and we're responsible for them. His choices aren't yours, and yours aren't his."

"It's an easy thing to say from your perspective," he said. "You've never had to question your own mind, have you? And I don't mean in the sense of-'what is my motivation here' or 'I'm doubting my decision'. I mean reality itself. The world your brain is presenting to you, you get to trust that it's real, that your responses to it are rational, reasonable, informed." He shook his head. "I can never be one-hundred percent certain that what I experience is reality. So what if I turn out the same as him? What if he was like me, and everything in his perspective warrants the sort of...screwed up way he's behaving?" He made her feel hopeless. She couldn't help him. His problems were all too big for her, so why had she gotten involved? Because it was her responsibility to help people. Even people like him. Because that's what she wanted to do. Wasn't it?

The heavy mood must've gotten to him, too, because then he laughed a little and showed her his bloodied fingertips. "I guess I'm pretty sure that's real." He winced. "Feels real."

"Yeah, she really did a number on you." A bruise was blooming under the skin at the corner of his jaw, blood was drying at the corner of his mouth, and given how many times Juri had kicked him in the torso, that was probably pretty colorful by now, too. And that was just the outside of him. She didn't want to imagine what she looked like right now, either. "We'll get to a hospital, get the police involved from there. You need more help than I can offer on my own."

"I don't think all the cops in the world can push me back to where I belong," he said.

She pressed her lips together at the note of melancholy in his voice. She didn't like to see someone upset, and it seemed like every time he spoke he distanced himself from the Vega she knew. That made it harder for her to ignore him. So in need of some way to distract him from his own suffering, as well as her own anxiety over the situation, she asked, "What's that like?"

"What?"

"Where you belong. Your, um, reality." It still felt surreal to say something like that, and she expected him to mock her for it any minute, but he never did.

"I told you a lot already."

"Well, tell me some more, then."

He blew out his breath through his lips and immediately regretted it. He never realized how much the simple act of breathing involved the expansion of the rib cage until today. "Ahhh, hmm..." He tried to think for her, to tell her something she hadn't heard yet, something that might make her happy. "Well, next weekend, your friends Eliza and Ken are getting married."

"Oh, cute, he still ends up with her," she said. "They're already married, and have a baby here. His name is Mel."

"I'll remember to use that for a cool party trick if they announce that they're expecting."

She laughed. "Eliza will flip out if you predict her baby's name." Then she sighed a bit. "And Ken will ask you for lotto numbers." He was smiling, still, so she asked, "What else?"

"Okay...ah...Our cat is very cute."

"That is just a given. Every cat is cute." Maybe being friends with Cammy was starting to rub off on her.

"Ah, you said the little boy in your five p.m. class wants to marry you one day, so I better hurry up and propose already before he does."

Her smile receded a bit. Of course she always thought she'd be married someday, but not any time soon. And even then, definitely not to him. He noticed the way her expression changed and started to apologize. But she stopped him and asked, "Do you think you will?"

He stared at the window for a moment. "Marriage is pretty intimidating. I know you can end it, but it feels very permanent, and I wouldn't want to put someone through something like that anyway."

"Don't ever do something you aren't ready for," she said.

"Maybe. But if you don't push yourself out of your comfort zone, there's a lot you might miss that you'll regret one day."

It was her turn to stare. He could've meant to say if for himself, or he could've meant to say it for her benefit. She couldn't tell. All she knew was that when he said it, she felt suddenly anxious. Suddenly felt how brief and short a person's life was, how easily it could be taken from them. It wasn't making her want to run out and marry the first guy she met or anything. But it made her ask herself, how much more of her own personal ambitions would she deny for this job? "Then go for it," she said.

"Will you, Chun-Li Xiang version 2.0, do me the honor-"

She blew a raspberry and gave a thumbs down, slowly shaking her head. "I'm version 1.0, by the way. The original. And word of advice: don't propose to her on a train or she'll have a hard time saying yes."

"Cold."

She smiled a little and shook her head. "All I meant was, you're right. That you can't wait around forever. That you have to find a balance between testing the waters and just diving in them."

"Poetic,_ mi querida_."

She twisted her lips together and rolled her eyes. "Not really, unless you like cliches."

"I love cliches."

"Some artist you are," she said.

He scoffed, feigning offense. "Like a knife in my heart."

"Boo hoo."

"You're twisting it."

She sighed heavily, searching around the train again. She didn't want to admit that she liked him. It felt too close to liking Vega, even if they were very different people. But she saw how her other self could have gotten involved with someone like this.

An automated voice announced their stop. The door Juri kicked in struggled to open properly. "Come on," she said. Her feet hurt, muscles in her back complained about having to support her, and she was happy to find her world was only spinning for a brief second. The train wasn't exactly warm, but stepping out onto the platform was downright freezing.

She watched him warily as he trudged up the stairs, clutching his side tightly like that would somehow ward off the pain. Her head still ached pretty fiercely, but at least she was standing upright without any issues and not spitting up blood. "It's a few blocks from here. Are you going to make it?" she asked.

"Maybe. Will you carry me?"

She shook her head and sighed. At least he wasn't so upset anymore. And Juri wasn't here waiting for them. That did leave her to wonder where she'd gotten off to, how long it'd be before she came back for at least one of them. If she finished her work with Vega, would she target Chun-Li next for her interference? She shuddered a bit as she thought of how many times Juri had claimed to 'like' having her alive. About how 'fun' she was to play with. Why did she seem to attract the insane criminals like so many crooked little iron filaments to a magnet?

They were at street level again and she took a moment to find the right way. A muffled, but agonized cry from Vega made her turn around immediately, and she was on the defensive. Someone had taken hold of him from behind, one arm around his waist, the other hand over his mouth. "Shut his ass up!" She knew that voice. And she knew the red gauntled arms that had him in their grip. The blonde holding Vega slammed her hard gauntlet into the side of his head. He fell without another complaint, out cold on the sidewalk. He was racking up the blows to the head, that was certain. She launched herself at Decapre, knowing they weren't just going to let her walk away without a fight. May as well beat them to the punch. Her foot connected with Decapre's stomach, and it was eerie, the way she barely reacted to what had to be pretty painful. She'd always been unsettled by the Dolls, just as much as she pitied them. Decapre swung a fist, Chun-Li blocked, struck out with another kick, and God wasn't this exhausting? Her heart pounded in her chest and she knew she was outnumbered, and tired, and hurt, that all the odds were against her here, but she couldn't give up. "Got to do everything my god damn self." She whirled around just in time to meet the enormous, deadly fist of a man easily twice her size. Her world was whirling around her at top speed before everything turned black, and she hit the ground.


	12. Chapter 12

There was a muffled groan. "My cherie amour, lovely as a summer day..." Another groan, more drawn out, but their voice was muffled still. The cloth balled up in her own mouth made her aware of why. She tried to force it out with her tongue, but another cloth tied over her lips prevented her from getting much done. "My cherie amour, distant as the milky way..." Moving meant more pain, her head still spinning, her arms bound tightly behind her. She didn't feel any blood in her nose. Didn't taste it in her mouth. So there was that. "My cherie amour, pretty little one that I adooore! How I wish that you were miiine!" But she was in the back seat of a car that had Balrog singing at the wheel and Decapre beside him, so there was also _that._

Yet another groan came from the seat next to her, and she couldn't make out any words. Balrog interrupted his singing with a heavy sigh. "You're just asking for it, princess, you're asking for it. I hope he lets me beat your ass, you annoying-" Vega groaned even louder and Balrog shook his head and laughed. "That's alright. That's alright. Keep playing. See what happens." Vega apparently took it as an invitation and not a threat. He tried to shift his weight and she saw him wince before he slammed his foot into the back of Balrog's seat.

"Threat detected. Initiating-" Decapre began to say but Balrog cut her off.

"Man, cut it out! He's just being a dumbass!" he snapped.

"I do not understand 'dumbass'. Explain."

He muttered under his breath, shaking his head, "Jesus help me, Jesus help him, Jesus help everybody in this god damn car." Chun-Li thought she saw him take a tighter grip on the steering wheel, maybe to keep himself from lashing out.

She managed to catch Vega's eye before he started kicking the seat again. Pushing Balrog's limits may have been something the real Vega was used to doing, but this guy obviously didn't know what he was getting into here. There would be a time and place to try to escape, but this wasn't it. Not while in the back of a moving car. Not while tied up like this. He winced and screwed his eyes shut, but nodded, seeming to say he understood her request. With that squared away, she took a moment to look out the window, trying to pinpoint where they were. It was still dark out, the occasional light post seeming to fly by at wider intervals than normal. Trees everywhere, and little else. Definitely no longer in the city, so where were they headed? She watched the side of the road intently for any signs. A pair of towns she'd never heard of were listed, neither too far away from where they were. She had no idea where that was in relation to New York City, but she memorized the towns anyway. It never hurt to have as much information as possible in a situation like this.

There was little they could do at present. Balrog went back to singing, and Decapre paid them little attention. She turned her eyes back to Vega, and he was staring, obviously zoning out a bit. What had happened? How had her life come gotten to this moment? Tied up in the back seat of a car with a bunch of terrorists she'd dedicated herself to trying to arrest. She tried not to let herself fall into a pessimistic feedback loop, and in spite of the difficulty, tried to focus on more positive aspects of her predicament. Balrog was not the most attentive when it came to fine details, so it was likely that at some point he'd make a mistake and that would be their chance to escape. Decapre being with him made the situation a little more intimidating. But if they'd made it through a fight with Juri, then surely they could do the same with these two. They didn't have to beat them, just lose them. That was doable.

She'd noticed that they'd slowed down compared to the speeds on the highway. She'd also noticed an increase in the amount of curves on the road, gently feeling herself being pushed and pulled depending on how the car moved. Pulling herself up as well as she could, she saw still more trees. The car was barely crawling along on the snowy, single lane road. She thought she even felt them lose traction a few times, the suspicion confirmed by the occasional curse or complaint from Balrog. Maybe they'd get in a wreck before even making it to wherever Balrog was taking them. How had that become a desirable possibility?

The car finally came to a stop. Again, she locked eyes with Vega. She was trying to convey some kind of confidence to him, a look that said 'this isn't as bad as it seems'. After all, Balrog had a history of screwing things up, and Decapre's programming was known to have its flaws. But when she saw how sad he looked, she couldn't bear to look at him for too long. What he wanted to say was plain-I'm sorry I dragged you into this.

"Get 'em out," Balrog said to Decapre. The doors swung open and the cold air rushed in. She felt a large hand take her by the arm, and Balrog practically dragged her from the car. She caught sight of Decapre pulling roughly on Vega's arm and if she hadn't known any better, she'd have thought Decapre purposefully let him fall face first into the snow. He groaned and tried feebly at pushing himself away from her. He knew how futile it was, and didn't struggle as much when she pulled him to his feet.

Glancing around revealed no sign of any close neighbors. No lights through the trees, no sound of people, not even distant passing cars. The two of them were forced inside what looked to her like a cabin. Like a place someone might own for vacations. It was pretty surreal, picturing it filled with the worst Shadaloo had to offer. Inside, there were no hints to the sort of criminal activity that could've taken place, and she supposed that wasn't so unusual. People this professional weren't going to overlook the little things, and they did their best to not make their presence obvious.

The cloth around her mouth loosened, and immediately she took the chance to spit out whatever was balled up in her mouth. She wanted to believe it was a clean, sanitized piece of fabric. But her mind was frighteningly good at conjuring up suggestions of what it could be contaminated with. She glanced over at Vega, who wasn't making much of an effort to push himself off of the floor. Blood flecked the otherwise white cloth, and she grimaced at the sight of it. He wasn't going to get any better with this kind of treatment.

"Ain't this some shit," Balrog said, finally addressing her for the first time. She had an idea of why they might want her held here, but kept her composure. She'd already lost the game with Juri, and didn't feel like going for another round with a different criminal. Balrog still looked smug, even if he hadn't gotten her to say a thing. He crossed his arms. "What'd he do, sell us out? Looking for a get out of jail free card or something?"

Vega tried to speak up in his own defense, but it was painful to listen to him talk. "I don't know-" Gasp. "What the hell is going on-" Gasp. "Just let us go-"

"The hell are you talking about? You're home."

"He needs medical attention, or he won't be 'home' for very long," Chun-Li said. She didn't want to sound too sympathetic, not in front of them. But they could both probably stand to see a doctor after what Juri had done to them.

"What he needs is yet to be determined." The voice made her blood run cold in her veins. She couldn't have heard right. Surely he wasn't here. Balrog snickered as her head snapped up towards the sound of heavy footsteps making their way towards them, and all hope of escape suddenly felt so foolish and impossible. "I suppose you'll be able to explain to me exactly what it is you've done to him."

"This isn't happening," Vega muttered before squeezing his eyes shut. Opening them again revealed that Bison was, still in fact, there. "Ahh, _mierda_..."

"_¿No estás feliz de verme?_" Bison said, and even if she couldn't understand the words, the mocking tone was pretty clear. Vega responded with some kind of horrible delirious laugh, his forehead pressed to the floor and shoulders shaking.

"I had nothing to do with this," she said in her own defense. 'This' may have been a bit vague. She had, after all, tried to detain him and catch him in a crime. She'd also risked her own neck trying to save him from certain death. But whatever made him sympathetic enough to warrant even bothering with protecting him, that wasn't on her. It still seemed like a far-fetched mystery she hadn't come any closer to solving. Maybe now she never would, and with the setting she was currently in, she had to ask herself if the potential answer had really been worth it.

Bison smirked. "I'm sure. But I've had enough interference from you to last me a lifetime. I'm pleased that he's finally managed to do something right and lead you to me, even if it wasn't intentional."

"No, come on, leave her alone," Vega said suddenly. He tried to push himself up but found it more challenging than he expected. He gritted his teeth and finally managed to look up at Bison, even if it terrified him more than anything. Here was the world's most successful terrorist, someone operating at the brink of godhood. What chance did he really have? "I mean, you're after me, you have me, so let her go. Please."

"That is pathetic," Bison muttered, shaking his head at the display. He turned his attention back to Balrog and Decapre. "Split them up."

She didn't fight when Decapre seized her by the collar and pulled her to her feet. There was no sense in wasting her energy now, not with three very formidable opponents in the room. If she tried to make a break for it, she was certain they'd have her on the ground in seconds. Knowing one's limits were just as important as anything else, especially in a crisis situation. She'd get her chance, she knew it. She'd just have to keep her eyes open.

He, on the other hand, didn't seem to get that. He shuffled his feet, feeble attempts at trying to kick Balrog. "Stop it, leave her alone!"

Balrog laughed, glancing back at Chun-Li. "Ooh! How does that feel? Serial killer got a crush on you?"

"I never killed anyone, let me go!"

"Just be calm," she tried to tell him, ignoring Balrog's taunting. He seemed already so distracted with fighting Balrog that she wasn't sure he'd noticed. She tried to follow through with her own advice when Decapre took a hold of her by the arm again. There was no sense in struggling at the moment, it was all wasted energy.

She was left alone in one of the bedrooms on the main floor. Decapre tied her wrists to the bed frame, and that gave Chun-Li a limited range of motion. "You don't have to do this," she whispered, maybe some desperate and pathetic attempt at rousing something like sympathy from the Doll. But her pleading went ignored.

"I do what I am ordered," Decapre responded, as though she had no opinions of her own on the idea of restraining someone against their will. And maybe she didn't. Chun-Li couldn't really understand what it was like to be brainwashed like that.

So the woman left, and she was alone for a brief moment. She could hear voices in the hall, low and firm. She could see their shadows in the sliver of light beneath the door to her temporary holding cell. She didn't want to think about who was on the other side, but she knew. Quickly, while she had the time, she surveyed her surroundings. Very bare. Hardly even any kind of decorations. The idea of Bison picking out just the perfect deer head to hang in the place almost had her giggling hysterically. It'd been a rough night, after all.

The door opened before she had much time to scope the place out. His footsteps, as always, reflected the weight of not just his authority, but his almost inhuman power. She refused to show him any kind of fear or intimidation. It was difficult to control her emotions when confronted by him, but she was always up for a challenge. He still seemed amused as he stepped through the door slowly. "I'll admit you've managed to surprise me," he said finally. A brief struggle went on in her mind-did she look him in the eye, to show she wasn't afraid? Or did she not even bother, and just continue to sit there as if he wasn't even in the room, wasn't worth her attention? "I'd never suspect you to be working with a criminal, much less one so...colorful as Vega."

"I'm sorry your worldview is so limited," she said. Her heart was beating a little quicker the closer he got. How long would it take for anyone to know she was here? Guile would be worried about not receiving a message eventually, but how much ground could he cover? How could he begin to know where she was? She couldn't rely on him for help, and had to assume she was alone in this until proven otherwise. It did her no good to delude herself into thinking someone would come to save her.

"Why don't you clue me in then," Bison said. "Educate me. What _was _your endgame here?"

She didn't have a clear answer for that. Why was she keeping a murderer alive? Why was she putting herself in such a risky position? It was practically the story of her life now. Over and over she threw herself into the maw of hell that was Shadaloo, only to come out and do it all again. All this time she invested in them, would she look back and regret it one day? She thought of what Vega had said of her alleged other-self, the one who'd pursued her dreams. Who traveled for pleasure, not to hunt down deadly criminals. Who found a career that didn't involve mad dictators and their dangerous cohorts. How far was she supposed to go to clear her conscious, to feel like she'd done enough for her father? If she could speak with him, just for a moment, what would he tell her to do? "Oh, you know, I'm just...taking life as it comes at me." She shrugged, as if none of this was all that serious to her. Sure, he might kill her on the spot for the trouble she'd caused him. He might torture her for the sake of it. Or maybe he'd keep her a prisoner in Shadaloo to try to extort some kind of ransom. After all, Shadaloo was weak right now, and could use any kind of financial boost to rebuild.

He didn't seem amused with her response. He snorted. "It's a very odd tactic on your part," he said. "Surely, there are easier ways to snatch my subordinates out from under me."

She wouldn't allow for the implication that she'd done this. She had no idea what'd happened to Vega, and wanted to make that clear. "I didn't do anything," she said. "Certainly not as much as you have. I'm going to gather that Vega doesn't know that though. How do you think he'd react, if he found out you were responsible for breaking his family apart?" For some reason she wanted Bison to know that she knew what he'd done to Vega's family. A part of her knew it wouldn't shock him. But a different part of her felt that she had to show the world that _someone _knew and that _someone _felt that loss. The world was full of people being screwed over every which way and no one said a word for them, and maybe this was her way to cope with that, to tell someone that she knew and that she'd regret it with them.

And of course, Bison just smirked, smug as ever. What did it matter to him that he'd ruined another life? Especially when it ended up setting said life on a path that led to him? "Is that what this is about? You think you can make him see what a _nasty, _evil man I am? As though he isn't one himself?" He actually laughed, and it was one of the most awful sounds she'd ever had to hear. "His father was an arrogant fool to think he could steal and run from me without repercussions."

"How did he steal from you?"

"He made a promise of payments which never came, and the debt collector eventually caught up with him," Bison said. "There is that same arrogance in Vega, but it works out for me. Unlike his father, he _can _supply what he promises-quickly, efficiently, and without leaving a trace. You want to know how he'd react to knowing I killed his father?" He smiled again. "He'd say, 'thank you for ensuring I didn't end up a spineless, pathetic coward like him'." She felt suddenly sick because he was probably right. "Your problem here is that you project your own perspective onto everyone else. Not a very good trait for a detective to have, really. You should be a bit less biased. Not everyone cared for their father as much as you."

She gritted her teeth behind the straight line of her lips. She couldn't keep her eyes from burning with hatred, though. Just the mention of her father coming from that man's mouth was enough to have her instantly keyed up, and she was certain he knew that. "You didn't give some people the chance to even try," she said instead of screaming at him to shut up. There was some small reward in the slightest hint of disappointment from him. He'd expected her to explode, but she wasn't dancing to his tune this time.

"I'd suggest you think hard about what you know regarding Vega's sudden change of heart," he demanded suddenly. No more toying with her, no more condescension. Her lack of reaction seemed to really irritate him, and he was back down to business. Sore loser. If he didn't win, he didn't want to play.

"He's the one who followed me. Talking nonsense about a different life. If you're looking for the culprit, I'm not it."

"Perhaps not for this particular transgression," he said.

She tried a different approach. "If you had any sense, you wouldn't be here right now. Juri wants all of you dead, and you've practically gift wrapped yourselves for her by being here all in one place." There was a chance she could get out of here if Bison wasn't around. His presence was like a final stake in the coffin, and she had no chance of escaping. But if she could scare him off, maybe she could get free.

"Good, she and I have unfinished business. And I suppose the pair of you would get along swimmingly in a cell together." She refused to react to that, even if it was one of the most horrifying things she could imagine. "Until that time, perhaps you should continue to consider Vega's peculiar condition, and how much it's worth to you that he remains that way. Those who refuse me at first eventually realize I have ways of getting what I want, and they aren't very fun."

"I told you, I don't know what happened to him," she insisted.

"We'll see if that's what you still think once we've made it back to Shadaloo," he answered. Her heart sank, but she wouldn't let herself show how she really felt. Instead, she stared back at him defiantly, unwilling to be the first to break eye contact. Maybe it was petty, but it was all she had right now. Bison smirked at her persistence, almost as if he found it amusing rather than a real challenge, and he left.

There had to be a way out, something she just hadn't seen yet. She pulled roughly at her restraints. She looked around the room for anything that might prove useful, but there wasn't much. Just the barest bit of furniture. What was this place? What did Bison use it for? How many other outposts like this did he have scattered around the globe? There wasn't much time for her to worry about that, and she returned her attention to her bindings.

Her arms were tied behind her at the wrists. The cord looped around the cold metal of the bed frame. She glanced from one corner of the bed to the other, wondering if maybe there was a way to slide the rope free. But two other pieces of the frame ran across the width of the bed, and she couldn't move past them. There was a teeth-grindingly awful noise when she slid the rope against the metal. In spit of it, she slid her arms back and forth, wondering if maybe the edge of the frame was sharp enough to cut through her bindings. It wasn't, and in a moment of frustration, she kicked it.

Taking a breath, she closed her eyes and tried to relax. Getting worked up could only cloud her mind and leave her worse off than she already was. Balling her hands into tight fists, she slowly moved herself down the length of the bed as far as she could. She tried to see what was within reach of her legs. There had been a nightstand, but Decapre had pushed it away before leaving the room. Good thinking on her part. So Chun-Li pushed herself down slowly in the opposite direction, towards the door.

Something caught the rope. She ran the cord over it again-maybe it was a loose screw, or an irregularity in the metal, or a spot where two pieces of the frame overlapped. Either way, the rope caught again, reassuring her that she hadn't just imagined it. Over and over, she caught the rope on the snag with no way of knowing whether anything useful was actually happening. She didn't give up, though. Even if it took hours to wear out her bindings, that effort would only be worth it in the end.

The rope didn't snap, but she suddenly felt it get a bit looser. It wasn't digging into her wrists anymore, and she strained against it. At first, the whole bed moved with her as she leaned forward, and she winced at how the rope burned her skin. She yanked, the bed jerked forward. She yanked again, and her arms flew forward. For a moment, she froze, wondering if one of them had noticed the noise. There was the sound of someone speaking down the hall, but no footsteps. She listened a little longer, and still no one came. Slowly, she stood up, barely breathing now, and she tested each step before committing to it. Any board in the floor could creak noisily, and she couldn't let something so little be the reason she ended up in even stricter confines.

She crept towards the window without making a sound, and split the blinds with two fingers to look out. Her heart sank at the sheer drop, how the land sloped up sharply towards the front of the building. Yeah, she'd live, but she might break something on the way down, and what good would that do her? She sighed and looked back at the door. It was probably her best bet out of here.

Would she make it out there, in the freezing cold and unfamiliar landscape? Was Guile searching for her yet? Maybe the guy back at the hotel had noticed all the commotion with Juri and alerted someone. Surely the open door to her room and the fact that no one was in it would have attracted some kind of attention. She inhaled deeply, trying to settle that anxious feeling in her stomach. Of course Guile would put two and two together. He'd be looking for her and that was good, but she couldn't rely on him to find her.

So what about Vega? Or Andres, if he even still was the same person. Did she take the risk to find out whether he'd gone back to his normal self or not? She thought of how she would react in his situation, being dragged into Shadaloo's den with no idea why they expected you to be one of their best murderers. Terrifying? Perhaps just a little. Could she bring herself to abandon him simply because she was fairly certain they wouldn't kill him? What kind of treatment was that, the most bare and basic? Of course she couldn't leave him to whatever Bison would subject him to. She didn't even know what had gone on with him, so what if Bison couldn't reverse it and ended up terminating him? No, she couldn't leave him here on his own. As much as she hated the idea of risking herself over Vega-someone who just _looks _like Vega, she tried to remind herself-she had to at least try to help him.

She pushed open the door as slowly as she could. It didn't creak, but she wasn't betting on it making no noise the wider she opened it. With about a half-inch of space for her to peek through, she did her best to survey the hall. She could see the front door. It was right there, unguarded. She could be gone in less than a minute.

But Andres needed her help, or Bison would have him. Probably dead or brainwashed, no better off than poor Decapre. She tried to get a better view of the opposite direction, but it was exceedingly difficult given the way the door opened. Someone had to be near. It just made sense, to have someone guarding her door. She took another breath. Balrog or Decapre. It was a toss up. Decapre was tough, certainly no pushover with her access to psycho power, her agility and speed, her fierceness. Balrog wasn't exactly preferable, able to pack enough force in a punch to mash her brain into the side of her skull and leave her a vegetable for the rest of her life. Was she really in any condition to fight as it was?

Almost as if the gods themselves were watching over her predicament with no small amount of distress, the whole place went pitch black. She heard a sharp movement in the hall and she held her breath. She couldn't see a thing, even as her eyes tried their best to adjust. Whoever was out there was probably having the same problem. Was a blizzard the reason for the power outage, or was it some much more awful possibility? It hadn't been snowing out when she'd been dragged in here, so she was beginning to doubt that the weather was responsible.

She kept her breath in her chest, and it ached as she waited for whoever was out there to make a move. Maybe this was a good thing, this darkness. It could give her the cover she needed to get Andres and herself out of here. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she heard footsteps. Heavy ones. She froze. What did she do? Pretend to still be tied up? But then, she heard Bison's commanding voice, "Decapre, go downstairs and keep an eye on Vega. Balrog, stay sharp. I have a feeling this is not simply some mechanical failure."

She listened as hard as she could. Bison's heavy footsteps came to her door...

...and passed by. She let out her breath, the longest one she'd probably ever held, and listened as the front door creaked open. If Juri was here, screwing with them before going in for the kill, it was the first time Chun-Li had ever wanted to thank her. The distraction Juri could provide was invaluable, and she'd utilize every second of it. She listened a little closer, trying to track the others by sound alone. Decapre's footsteps were lighter, much more nimble and difficult to track as they disappeared down a flight of stairs. Balrog's were about as subtle as an elephant's as they stomped by. He was near, but not right outside her door.

Her opportunity to move unseen wasn't getting any closer, so she pushed out into the hall. The door made some small noise, and she heard a quick series of footsteps which made her pause only briefly. "Hey, who's in here!" It was Balrog, demanding an answer. She could tell by his voice that he wasn't in the hall, so she scrambled to the other wall and pressed herself against it as he moved around looking for an intruder that probably wasn't there. The layout of the place was vague in her mind, given that she'd only gotten a few minutes to try to assess it. But she was fairly sure that if she followed this wall, she'd find her way to the basement somehow.

So that's just what she did, moving as slowly and quietly as she could, keeping a sharp ear out for any problems. It took much too long to cover even the smallest distance, but right now, she needed to be quiet and certain of herself. Balrog was still walking around noisily in the front room, giving her plenty of cover. She felt a bump in the wall, the threshold of a door. Was this the right one?

The front door swung open, creaking loudly, and she froze. "I can feel her. She's close." Bison's voice and heavy footsteps. Her heart started beating so hard in her chest she thought for sure they'd hear it.

But then Balrog asked, "Who?"

"Juri. She must've tracked them here."

"Shit like we needed that right now," Balrog muttered, obviously angry. She wasn't sure if he'd ever witnessed the full extent of what Juri could do to a person, but he'd probably heard stories. She didn't think anyone could exaggerate on the truth when it came to the horrific, messy things Juri was capable of.

Chun-Li kept moving, trying to utilize the cover of Bison's voice while he gave further instructions to Balrog. She couldn't afford to focus on his words too much, instead trying to translate what she felt with her hands into an image in her mind of where she was. There was an opening beside her, and she now felt along the floor, hoping against all odds it wasn't just some kind of closet she'd stumbled across. Her fingers took note of every imperfection in the wood floor, the knots, the splinters, the cracks, the ridges, until suddenly, they were treated to empty space. Slowly, she reached lower, and found another wooden surface. A staircase. This was it. She slid around slowly, quietly, trying to pay all of her attention to her senses of touch and sound. Balrog still muttered nervously about Juri, and Bison was blaming the fact that she'd found them on him. There was some other noise, a bit muffled, coming from below, but she hadn't managed to parse it just yet. It was either Decapre or Andres or Juri. So she continued down the stairs, and hoped for the best.


	13. Chapter 13

She pushed herself down the stairs on all fours, not daring yet to stand up completely. The thought crossed her mind that she wasn't exactly familiar with the place, and she didn't want to give herself away by smacking into a wall, or stumbling down the stairs. So she went one step at a time, hands holding tight to the floor, toes curling into the wood for extra stability. The noise downstairs got clearer as she approached, and she kept herself from sighing as she realised what it was. "In a caa-afe, or sometimes on a crowded street." He was practically mumbling the words, like it was an almost automatic, unstoppable force marching its way out of his brain through his mouth. He coughed and sputtered and kept going in spite of it. "I've been near you, but you never no-ticed meee..."

The sound was closer now, and she was sure she was headed in the right direction. That made her feel a little better, to know this wasn't a waste of time. She felt the surface of the floor suddenly change from smooth wood to rough, bare cement.

"My cherie amour, won't you tell me how could you ignore, that behind that little smile I wore-" He was close, but that meant so was someone else.

"Enough!" There was a soft thud, a kind of sharp gasp. She held her breath. Had Decapre knocked him out?

But then a weak, thin little voice muttered, "How I wish...that you were...mi-ine..."

Decapre growled angrily and Chun-Li strained to follow the noises and translate them into some kind of picture in her head. There was rustling, another thud, something slammed into something else, someone groaned a bit, and then silence. She listened closely for any kind of indication that he was still conscious, prayed he was because she could never hope to get him out of here if she had to drag him back up these stairs.

"You're really strong." She could've laughed at the weak way he voiced that opinion while still managing to sound so impressed.

"Stay quiet, commander," Decapre said, back to her more stoic state. "I must listen." At first, Chun-Li thought she'd been noticed. But then she remembered the tense situation upstairs. Balrog's muttering could barely be heard over his heavy footsteps as he paced. She could only hear the one set of footsteps, so Bison was either gone or standing very still. She found herself praying for the former. If he was gone and Juri was tangled up in a fight with Balrog, they stood a chance at escaping.

"Right." She didn't like the slurred sort of way he said that, like he was tired of trying to stay awake. How could she let him know she was here without making any noise? Decapre would sniff her out in an instant. But she hadn't come this far to give up now. Still glued to the wall and crouched low, she moved slowly. Her clothes made some small amount of noise, and she tried hard not to breathe too loudly. Was Decapre able to tell the difference between his movements and her own? She slid her hands along the floor and froze when she felt some rush of warm air glide over her fingers. Then again. And again, almost as if in a steady rhythm.

It was his breath, she realized. Or she hoped it was his breath and not Decapre's. She couldn't think of any good reason as to why the woman would be laying on the cold floor like that, though. Taking a slow, deep breath of her own, she gently pressed one of her fingers to his lips, hoping he took the hint and stayed quiet. She heard him jerk back, then felt a hand on hers. He felt his way up her arm, and she leaned down closer. With her free hand, she pressed his hand to her cheek so he could hopefully tell who she was. He let out a relieved breath as he sank his fingers into her hair. Again, she tapped his lips with her finger as a reminder. Nothing was so important as silence now.

Feeling around, she reached for his wrists which were tied together just as hers had been. He wasn't tied to anything though, which made her job a little easier. She felt over the knotted rope and tried to picture it in her head as she did so. It was one of the most difficult puzzles she'd ever had to solve. Decapre's complete and utter silence made the whole process more nerve-wracking. Was she right next to them, ready to strike without warning? Or was she totally unaware of what was going on still? And what if the lights flicked back on at just this moment? Would someone notice soon that she wasn't still tied up in that room? Were they still so focused on Juri that she'd become an afterthought? All of these possibilities were making her feel a little sick and she found it hard to focus without being able to see anything.

The first knot came undone. He tugged against the rope when he felt it slacken, but couldn't quite get it off. She found the next knot, and it was a bit more stubborn. Finally she felt it loosen, and pulled it away. She tugged on his arm, silently requesting that he follow her. There was another rustling noise, a pained sound from him and she winced when she heard footsteps close beside them. "What are you doing, commander?" Decapre asked, her voice still coming from above them. Her words carried no sign of whether she felt suspicious over the noise or if she was simply trying to keep tabs on him.

"Taking advantage of this spacious and beautiful basement," he answered.

"Stay where you are, or I will be forced to restrain you further."

"Okay," he said, trying to avoid provoking a conflict with the strange woman. She spoke so mechanically it unnerved him. They were all still for a moment, the only noise seeming to be the footsteps above them. He broke the tense silence with the rustling of his clothing as he tried to shift himself into a crouched position.

Sudden shrieking laughter echoed through the dark cabin above them, cursing and shouting from Balrog following soon after. Chun-Li took a tighter hold of Andres's wrist like this would stave off that tense, empty feeling in her stomach. Juri had finally revealed herself after letting them cower in the dark like frightened children. So would she go in for the kill immediately? If Juri and Bison started fighting, would they be caught in the inevitably explosive and deadly crossfire?

Decapre said something which Chun-Li missed in all the noise upstairs, and suddenly she heard Andres yelp. "Get back!" Decapre ordered as she pulled him up and shoved him against the wall. Chun-Li froze, wondering if the woman had noticed her presence here, or if she was simply reacting to Juri's sudden appearance. "Initiating defensive sequence. Serious threat detected."

"We should get out of here, shouldn't we?" Andres tried. "That girl's going to kill us if we don't run."

"Your lack of faith in the General has been noted and will be reported," Decapre said.

Chun-Li crouched against the wall while her mind was overwhelmed with a torrent of possibilities and risks. Did she try to take out Decapre? Could she manage it here in the dark, with Juri threatening to burst down here any minute? Upstairs there were random heavy thuds, shouts from Balrog, commands from Bison, more of that awful laughter. It was utter chaos, and could she afford to throw herself through that in the hopes that no one would notice them trying to escape? Or did she wait and see who came out the victor?

Obviously that wouldn't work. Whoever won, their next step would be to check up on the prisoners here. They'd notice she was missing and this was probably where they'd head next. No, waiting for one of the parties to win wasn't an option. That left her with one thing to do, little as she liked it. She had to at least lose Decapre and get out of here, all before Bison and Juri finished fighting.

Standing upright finally, she took a deep breath. In the pitch black basement, she couldn't tell exactly where Decapre was, but she wouldn't be giving her own position away by speaking first. She swung a leg out. Nothing, but the noise gave Decapre something to be concerned with. "What are you doing commander?" she asked, probably assuming Vega had moved. She never got an answer from him. Chun-Li immediately took the moment to pounce, her foot connecting firmly with the woman's sternum. Decapre stumbled back, surprised by the mystery assailant. Fighting in complete blackness was something Chun-Li could honestly say she'd never done before. In the dark, yes, but usually there was _some _kind of light-the moon, or a dim lamp, or flashlight. Sound was the only indication of another's position, but there was a problem with that given the third party in the room. If she picked the wrong noise to attack, she could end up hurting Andres further and giving Decapre the advantage.

She kept still herself while listening for movements. It was a little more difficult now with the noise from the fight upstairs. Preparing herself for the attack this would leave her open to, she said, "Andres don't move. Don't even fidget or talk." It was something she had to tell him in spite of how clearly it gave away her position to Decapre. It'd give her less reason to hesitate when she heard a sound herself.

There was the sound of shoes scrabbling on the rough, bare floor. A knee took her in the shoulder and she pulled herself away. She tried to keep the picture of Decapre's position in mind, tried to visualize how tall she was, where she might hold her arms, how bent her knees might be. She was still unsure of where Andres was in the room, and had to hope they wouldn't bring the fight to him. She stayed still and quiet again, holding her breath and listening for Decapre. A normal opponent might have taunted her, or laughed at the absurdity of the situation. But a Doll only spoke when necessary, and didn't feel compelled to gloat or use any kind of psychological components in a fight. They had always been the most difficult of Shadaloo's soldiers to fight because of the overwhelming pity she felt for them. It was easier to injure a person who willingly teamed up with terrorists. Not so much when it came to teenage girls brainwashed into their position.

Decapre made the next move. She was surprisingly accurate in pinpointing Chun-Li's location in the dark. The hard, round end of Decapre's gauntlet had been slammed into her stomach, and all the air from her lungs rushed out. Chun-Li kept moving herself backwards until she hit a wall, trying to recover, but she knew how smart that particular attack was. It forced her to take deeper breaths, breaths that clearly gave her position away. She tried as hard as she could to not gasp for air, to keep her inhalations even and quiet, but she was just too desperate to refill her lungs.

Sudden sharp noises almost made her jump, and she realized someone had clapped twice in succession. Decapre launched herself at the noise immediately, something rustled madly as someone moved, and there was a loud 'smack' as Decapre's fist met the wall. The clapping kept going, noisy in the small, bare room, and each time Decapre threw herself at it. Andres was distracting her, but how long did he think he could avoid her attacks? Chun-Li used the noise as a cover for her breathing but silently chided him in her head for being so stupid. Decapre was going to smash his head in if she caught him. She focused again, trying to find Decapre in the dark when she heard that clapping and-

The room was briefly lit up in a soft, crackling violet light and she got a glimpse of how terrified he looked before Decapre stabbed him in the shoulder and he screamed. "The General would be wise to allow me to kill you, but for now perhaps this is a clear enough message for you," she hissed at him. Chun-Li couldn't afford to hesitate or the opportunity would pass. She threw herself at Decapre, catching her right between her shoulder blades. Decapre gasped when she hit the wall face first. Her blades sputtered, disappearing completely, plunging them all back in the dark. Decapre screamed, not in pain but out of frustration. "Who is here?!" Decapre had been so preoccupied with Andres in those few seconds of illumination that she'd forgotten about her other opponent. She swung wildly and nearly struck Chun-Li in the face. "I will kill you! I will tear you into pieces!" Chun-Li found herself against the wall again. Another blow from Decapre nearly found her, and she sank low. It was only a matter of time before she whipped out those blades again, and Chun-Li was not looking forward to that. They hurt much worse than normal metal. "I will bleed you dry, leave you to the vultures! Kill you, I'll kill you!" she screamed and Chun-Li pushed off the ground. She took Decapre at the waist, and slammed her to the ground.

Again the glow of purple and Decapre screamed angrily at the sight of her. Chun-Li tried to get back up to attack again when a horrible, burning pain flared through her thigh. Decapre sank one her blades into Chun-Li's leg, and she struggled not to scream, a strained, loud groan crawling out of her tightened throat and gritted teeth. She tried to push Decapre away, and then she did scream as the other woman twisted the blade further to keep her target still. She saw someone moving in the soft, sporadic light. Decapre shouted when she felt hands in her hair, and swung her other fist. Her gauntlet made contact with something and then she had Andres by his hair, but he didn't let go of her. With every bit of strength he could muster, he slammed her head back down into the cement floor. The violet light of her blades flickered, plunging them briefly back into darkness and giving Chun-Li just enough time to pull her wounded leg away. When psycho power cut you open, it didn't just hurt at the site of the entry. It raced over your skin, through your muscles, leaving sharp pains as it went. She gritted her teeth as she dragged herself towards another wall, holding a hand to the thin, neat gash in her thigh to stem the blood.

Decapre was screaming as she swung wildly at Andres. Once she got back on her feet, he wouldn't last long. Chun-Li took short breaths, knowing it wasn't going to be any walk in the park getting back up on this leg. She had no other choice. Taking Decapre down was their only way out of here. She heard the familiar soft thud of a fist making contact with a body. And again. He gave a pained cry. Chun-Li forced herself to her feet in spite of the pain that burned over her leg. The place lit up again. Decapre drew back her arm, ready to send that blade right through him. Chun-Li cried out as she put her weight into her injured leg trying to focus on winning the fight and not on that unbearable pain. Her foot took Decapre first in the lower back, then her side. She stumbled away, hitting the wall.

The wavering light provided by Decapre's blades lit her face in an eerie way, the mask doing her no favors, and she bared her teeth at Chun-Li. The light seemed to get marginally brighter. "How proud the General will be when I deliver you to him, gutted like a pig in a slaughterhouse!"

She didn't argue with Decapre, instead resuming a defensive stance. She tried to keep her weight to her uninjured leg, but that didn't really keep it from hurting. "I don't want to hurt you. I know it isn't your choice to be here," she said.

Decapre quickly cut her off. "You know nothing!" There was no time to reply as Decapre dove at her, swinging those deadly blades so quickly they became blurs of crackling violet light. Chun-Li ducked one, then the next, tried to get in a blow of her own, but was denied by another thrust of a blade. It snagged her shirt at the navel but never met her skin. She tried to focus, but so much competed for her attention-the pain in her leg, Decapre's blades, the battle upstairs, her heart pounding in her ears, even the ragged, uneven breaths Andres was taking as he watched them fight, wondering how he could possibly help in a situation like this. Finally, she felt the familiar tingling in her fingers as she became more and more focused. Her back hit the wall. Decapre pulled back one arm to deliver a fatal blow. Chun-Li threw her arms forward with a cry of '_kikoken!'_ and Decapre stumbled back. She took the opening provided. For a brief moment, she was upside down, and kick after kick found their mark in Decapre's head, chest, or side. Chun-Li brought her legs down again, one burning with intolerable pain that was threatening to leave her collapsed on the floor.

Decapre struggled to gather herself up again, her blades flickering sporadically as she struggled to maintain them. She spat blood at Chun-Li's feet and shook her head, trying to clarify her vision. Chun-Li never let her make it to her feet again, unable to take much more of this fight. A series of kicks, so quick one would struggle to see much more than a blur where her leg had been, took Decapre down for good. They were plunged back into complete darkness, the only sounds their labored, pained breathing. There was a degree of guilt for her, to have hurt this person who had no real control over their own actions. But what alternative was left to her when they fought so fiercely?

"Are you alright?" she asked him finally as she regained composure. Her thigh was throbbing painfully and she put as little weight to it as possible. She felt blood dampening the area immediately around the wound, the cloth sticking to her skin. Her head was aching sharply and she worried what kind of pain would come with returning to an environment with any sort of light in it. Her hands shook and she felt weak at the knees. She tried not to think about it, but a part of her knew she simply could not take another fight.

"Yeah..." he said, even though he didn't sound like it to her. "But are you?"

"I'm fine," she said quickly, unwilling to tell him just how horrible she felt. It'd only give him more reason to despair and she couldn't let that happen. He'd give up on all hope of their escaping. She knew people like him needed someone to take the lead, to say with confidence that everything was going to turn out okay. She was used to being that person for many others, so what was one more? They were so close to getting out of here, so she could keep up the act, just a little longer. "Let's go." She felt along the wall, looking for him where she'd last caught a glimpse of him, curled up clutching his side.

"No arguments."

She felt something brush her arm then take hold of her wrist. He followed her up the stairs slowly, towards the battle still going on. She hated that this was what she was headed for, there was no other choice. If Bison and Juri were focused enough on each other, maybe they still stood a chance. She tried to calm her breathing, even though Andres wasn't even bothering at this point. He was afraid and wasn't going to pretend otherwise. "It'll be okay," she said, trying to offer some kind of hope. Maybe she needed to hear it, too.

"I'll believe it when I see it," he said. The ground shook, followed by a laugh and a taunt from Juri and she felt him take her hand a little tighter. The voices of the two giants engaged in battle became clearer, telling them just how much closer they were. Juri was describing in nauseating detail just what she was going to do to Bison once she finished him off and Bison was responding in his typically composed and condescending manner. There was a sharp crack when something snapped-maybe some piece of furniture, or even part of the floor. There was a heavy thud. Someone hit the wall, or threw a punch, or landed heavily on the ground. Bursts of violet and pink would momentarily illuminate the corridor like a strobe light. Something whipped by the open door and she froze, hoping they hand't been noticed. Pounding, heavy footsteps stomped by soon after, and she stayed still. The two prisoners went ignored by their would-be wardens, too absorbed in gutting each other to care about much else.

"Okay," she whispered to him as they made it to the threshold. Something crackled noisily and Juri gave a rare, pained cry. A soft purple light came down the hall from the right. "Count of three, run as fast as you can towards the front door."

"If we don't make it-"

"We'll make it. Don't let any other thought than that come into your head," she told him. He sighed but didn't argue with her. "One." Something glass shattered in the room down the hall. "Two." Juri laughed maniacally as she landed blow after blow against her opponent. "Three!" Chun-Li and Andres bolted, forgetting all about stealth and silence. A flash of purple lit the place up behind them and they caught a brief glimpse of the front door, their target. Following closely on the heels of that flash of light came an angry shriek from Juri. At first, Chun-Li chalked it up to some frustration in the fight with Bison. But then she heard the words she'd been dreading as Juri screamed, "They're running!"

"Oh shit!" Andres said beside her and she shook her head.

"Keep going!" It was all they could afford to do. Her toes couldn't take all this cold. The snow burned as they dashed through it, and she prayed against all odds that Guile was looking for her. The sun was ready to come up, judging by that soft, barely-there pink light towards the east. Where were they supposed to go? How far could they hope to make it before dropping from blood loss, the freezing cold, sheer exhaustion? She pushed the thoughts out of her mind, focusing instead on every breath she took, leaving her throat raw and her mouth dry.

The fight between Bison and Juri hadn't stopped once they'd been spotted. Now it seemed to be mobile, the cries and blows following quickly behind them. A complaint from Juri here-"You lost them! You cost me my targets!" A response from Bison there-"You afforded them the distraction!" Chun-Li panted as she glanced over her shoulder at them, her heart pounding in her chest at just how close they were. Her eyes went wide as Bison leaped high into the air before slamming back down into it again just where Juri had been standing. Snow drifted down around them for a moment, and she turned her eyes forward again.

If Bison and Juri caught up to them, it was going to be a massacre. Bison's victory would probably mean instant death for her, maybe Andres too, if Bison considered him more trouble than he was worth. And what if it was Juri who found them? Each option seemed equally daunting, but somehow she imagined Bison being easier to deal with. At least she was used to him, she mostly understood him. Juri, on the other hand, was completely unpredictable. It was just as likely that she would want to eviscerate the pair of them as it was that she wanted to sleep with them, and Chun-Li just couldn't fathom something like that. She tried not to think about these deadly opponents catching up to them, and instead paid attention to the cold, snow covered woods around them.

The noise behind them made it difficult. It'd get so close sometimes her heart skipped a beat. She thought for sure one of the pair would reach out and grab them. But they kept fighting, apparently determined to end each other now. Sometimes the ground shook when one of the two struck it with their inhuman strength. They'd nearly lost footing once or twice from such a maneuver. A pained scream from one of the two would echo through the woods and Chun-Li was allowed a brief moment to wonder if the fight was over. But then that scream was usually followed by a curse or a threat, and the battle kept chasing them.

In some places, the snow barely covered the ground. In other places, they nearly tripped over themselves as they found the snow reaching up to their knees. Numbness was taking over but she persisted. They couldn't give up. They couldn't go through all of these fights and struggles just to die from something stupid like hypothermia. She glanced back at Andres, saw the trail of bright red blood he was leaving behind, how it dripped from his mouth and he barely seemed to notice. She grimaced because he looked pale and she knew she probably did too. But they had to keep moving. The sound of water was at first difficult to discern among the noise of their own breathing and the chaos behind them. The closer she got to it, the more certain she was that she was hearing right. There was a break in the trees and a wide gap as they came to a ravine. Her eyes scanned the area as they kept running towards it. Wasn't there a way across? Was this the end of the line?

She spotted the bridge and headed towards it, abruptly taking a sharp right and nearly slipping in the snow. Bison and Juri burst out of the woods behind them, and for a moment she thought Juri would go flying off into the ravine. The drop wouldn't kill her but it certainly wouldn't be any fun with the cold river coursing below. The woman's feet swept out into the air and she took a hold of Bison. Keeping up her momentum, she tried to fling herself over his shoulders and slam her feet into his back to send him down. But he turned her own attack on her, slamming her down into the snow instead.

Chun-Li tore her eyes away from the fight and focused only on what was ahead. The bridge was sturdy but slick from the snow and she tried to move carefully and quickly across. Andres followed behind her and the two of them couldn't help but glance back at the fight. Juri's foot smashed into Bison's jaw and she cackled madly when blood sprayed out. He responded with a swift, enormous fist to her stomach. Chun-Li forced herself to look away again. The other side of the ravine was closer now. She blinked and a shock ran through her. A young woman stood on the other side, smiling brightly. Friend or foe? Or did she live around here? Why was she just standing there smiling when a horrific death match was taking place across from her? The girl tilted her head, waved a hand in greeting, and winked one of her odd, red eyes. Something snapped, the sharp noise coming from underfoot. Chun-Li's heart dropped when she realized what was happening. The bridge collapsed and they fell with it, given only a few seconds to scream. They hit the water hard and the last thing she felt was the freezing cold.


	14. Chapter 14

She shuddered. It was unstoppable, the cold had sunk through all the way to her bones. She gasped for air as she pushed herself up, realizing she wasn't any longer at the mercy of the river she'd fallen in. She was dry, but not warm. How long had she been here? Where _was _here? Why had the bridge just suddenly collapsed? Where was Andres, or Bison and Juri for that matter? She rubbed her arms, trying to warm herself back up.

The place was dark in the same way a winter evening is when it's cloudy outside. She could hear wind howling. The room seemed mostly empty. There wasn't even any furniture in it. Just some blankets, pillows. A few stacks of books. It was messy, cold, dark. She stood on shaking legs, pulling a blanket up with her to wrap around herself. There was a window, so she went to it. Pushing aside a dusty curtain, she split the blinds with two fingers.

A rotting city stretched on as far as she could see. Plumes of black smoke were swept away by the wind. Former skyscrapers were collapsed, strewn around like building blocks after a child's tantrum. There was no hum of electricity, no familiar drone of traffic, not even streams of oblivious pedestrians. The wrecked city outside was like a corpse picked clean by scavengers, its remains covered in a dusting of snow. "What is going on?" she whispered to herself as she studied the landscape.

"Brought you some stuff."

She whirled around quick at the sound of the voice that coincided with the knock on the door. It was Yun. She was certain it was him. But where had those scars on his face come from? That cynical, hardened look in his eyes? "Yun, what happened?"

He pulled back his hood, shaking it to rid it of snow as best as he could. "What do you mean? Is everything okay?" He set down a bag. It sounded heavy.

"No, nothing's okay," she said, confused about the question when the answer seemed so obvious. She pointed back towards the window. "What happened out there? What happened to your face? How did I get here?"

He seemed uncertain of how to respond. "Are you sick?"

"No I'm not sick! I'm confused, and worried, and-" She shook her head and crossed her arms tighter over her chest. "This isn't-When did this happen? Where am I?"

"You're still in Beijing, same as ever," he said in a soft voice. Like he was worried.

"Beijing," she whispered, unwilling to believe at first. She turned back to the window, rushing to pull up the blinds and study it again. He couldn't be right. The city was in ruins. What could have done that? And when?

"What are you doing?!" Yun shouted. He was suddenly beside her, drawing the blinds closed and pulling back the curtain. "The monitors'll find us if you do that!"

"Monitors?" she asked. She shook her head, took quick breaths to try to calm her pounding heart. "Yun, I don't understand what's happening, please-"

"It's gotten to you, hasn't it?" he asked, almost hopelessly. "You're starting to crack." He sighed, covering his eyes with his hand for a moment. When he finally looked at her, he seemed desperate, afraid. "We can't lose you. You and your dad are all we've got holding everything together. If you lose it-"

"My dad?"

He sighed again.

"Please, Yun, bear with me," she said, taking him by the arm. She wasn't going to say she understood what was happening, but she may have gotten some small piece of it. She wasn't in her world anymore. Why, or how, was still something she couldn't answer, but it seemed obvious to her. Just as Andres had been taken from his, she now seemed to suffer the same fate. Was it some kind of contagious force? A ripple effect? It seemed pointless to speculate, but she felt she had to try. Anything to make sense of the senseless. "I know I might-I seem different to you. Maybe even like I'm going crazy. But trust me, that's not what it is." He seemed skeptical. It was probably a common tactic among the insane to deny their insanity. "You said my dad-" She couldn't bring herself to finish. Would he really be here? What was this? "Can you just show me where he is?"

"Yeah, of course," Yun said. She tried to stay calm as she followed him out of the small apartment. In the hall outside, it was even darker, no way for light from outside to get in. She'd surmised that electricity wasn't available anymore, or possibly strictly controlled. They only went up one door, and Yun rapped on it a few times.

Part of her knew she wouldn't be able to do anything but stare when he opened the door. The more cynical assumption that her father wouldn't really be here was crushed as soon as she saw him. And it was him. He seemed more worn, tired, with more grey hairs than she remembered. Dark circles under his eyes. And he was a bit paler. But it was him. "How'd your search go?" he asked Yun and his voice, even if it wasn't warmly directed at her, cut through her shock.

"Baba," she whispered through a tightening throat. She threw her arms around him and buried her face in his neck, never wanting to let him go again.

"Is everything alright?" her dad asked, his hand coming instantly between her shoulder blades, soothing circles warding off pain or worry.

"I don't know," she muttered, trying to keep herself together. Difficult didn't begin to describe it. "I'm lost. I don't know what's going on."

There was a tense sort of silence. If she'd taken a moment to look, she would've seen the worried glances shared by Yun and Dorai. Yun patted her on the shoulder once before taking off, leaving them some privacy. "Come in and talk to me about it," he said. Same as ever. Why had fate decided this was something she deserved to lose?

His place was much the same as hers. Some blankets and pillows. Some clothes neatly folded but piled on the floor instead of in a dresser or closet. Very little light. Windows covered with curtains and blinds. "I know you'll think that I'm losing it, or something," she said, diving right in. It was just as easy to talk to him as it had been when she was a teenager. "Trust me when I say I'm not. I don't think this is where I belong." She was clinging to that absurdity. Better that than having genuinely gone insane, or lost in some fervent dream crafted by a mind frantic to keep itself from shutting down.

"What makes you say that?"

She shook her head. "Because I don't know what's happening here. Because the life I know is one where you aren't in it anymore."

He kept a passive face. He'd always been good at concealing what was going on in his head, one of his more frustrating, but at the same time, admirable features. "What do you mean?"

She took a breath. "Beijing's not like this," she said. "It's normal. I'm a detective, just like you were." She held back tears and briefly pressed her fingers against her eyes. "What's happened?"

He put an arm around her shoulder, and it instantly made her feel stronger. Not happier, not better, but at least she felt like things could be fixed. "Shadaloo. It's taken everything. You don't remember?" he asked, worry creeping into his voice.

"No, I didn't live it," she said, knowing how strange of an explanation it was. The knowledge that her father was probably worried for her sanity made it all the more frustrating. Here he was, real as he'd ever been, and the price she had to pay to see him was his confidence in her mental facilities. She had to make him despair for her in order to see him, and in a way it made her want to laugh. Nothing came without a cost. Briefly, she squeezed her eyes tight before facing him again. "I'm not..." No, she couldn't say it. If she said it, hopelessness would rush back in like the tide on the shore of her mind.

But the truth was always the best way. She forced herself to look at him as she spoke. She wanted this to stretch on, just him and her, quiet, at peace, even if it was just for a moment. Even if it was something she was stealing from another world. "I'm not the version of your daughter that you think I am." It had to be the truth. She didn't know how, exactly, but she knew this wasn't her world.

He watched her, quietly processing her words. There it was, behind his eyes which tried to remain warm, loving, caring, compassionate. There was that worry and doubt and desperate sadness. "What do you mean?" he asked, never accusing, never defensive. Always wanting your side first before condemning.

"I won't pretend I know what's going on. I just know it's happened to someone else, and now I think it's happening to me." She looked around the dim apartment again to reassure herself that it was all still there. That it was all still profoundly wrong. "I'm your daughter. But I'm not the one you know. And you're my father. But not the one I grew up with." She shook her head, knowing she was just repeating herself but finding it difficult to move on. "This place, it's so different."

"How so?" Always so kind to humor her.

"You said Shadaloo did this," she said. "But in my life, they're hanging on by a thread." She stopped for a moment, a little laugh escaping her. "And maybe that thread's just snapped. I can't be sure." If Juri ended Bison's life, it might just be the death knell of Shadaloo. For good, given that his organization was scattered, ruined, the remnants apparently being hunted down by something much worse for a criminal than law enforcement agencies. "I don't know why I've been brought here now, of all times. If it was the end of Bison, I think-Well, I'd want to be there to see it. To know it was over. To know I'd finally done-even if in just some small way-that I've done you justice."

"What do you mean by that?" he asked her, a reassuring hand on her shoulder. She couldn't tell yet what he thought of her story, if he really believed her or not. She'd be surprised if he did, given its outlandish nature. After all, how long had it taken her to come around for Andres?

The answer to his question was still as painful for her as the day she'd heard the news. Tears stung her eyes and blurred the edges of her vision. "He killed you," she said. She couldn't stop the tears but she could stop from sobbing like a child. "Bison. You got too close and he killed you for it." She looked at him now, and he seemed so sad. Why wouldn't he be? He probably thought his daughter was going to pieces right before his eyes. "It's taken seven years, but it's close now. Shadaloo's coming down and I think I'm so close to being able to say I've done right by you." She wiped her eyes and shook her head. It felt good to tell him, even if his life was so radically different from her own father's. Maybe it wasn't the sort of closure she wanted, but no one ever got everything they asked for, did they?

"I'm here, though," he said and she couldn't help frowning. She knew it would be a bit too much for someone to believe. He put his arm around her and pulled her too him. "I'm still here."

"What if you weren't?" she asked quickly. She had her chance, and it was so unlikely she'd ever get another like it. "What if you were dead, killed by that-that criminal, that monster, and I did everything I could to take him down?"

"Chun-Li-" How sweet her name sounded coming from him.

"Please, just tell me what you think." Maybe it was a dangerous question to ask of him. After all, she could admit this wasn't her father. His experiences could be so different as to change the way he thought about a variety of things. So was his answer meant for her to hear?

He took her cheek in one hand and brushed tears from her skin with his thumb. He shook his head slowly as he spoke. "I don't know what to think," he said. "If all of that happened, then-" He sighed, maybe feeling ridiculous for humoring her story. "All I want is for you to be happy. To have a life you can look back on with fondness and joy, not bitterness or sorrow or anger or regret."

The tears came back in force now, the frustration too much. "How can I be happy with your death?" she asked around sobs.

"No," he said. "No one's happy about that. But it's a part of life we have to learn to deal with. It's inevitable, for all of us. If I died, regardless of how it happened, I wouldn't want for you to live the rest of your life in anguish over it. I'd want you to remember me and the time we spent together, not the time we missed out on. I'd want you to be able to move on, to live your life for yourself, to be happy, and share your happiness with others. I'll always be proud of you, no matter what."

"I couldn't ever know-" she started to say but found it difficult to continue.

"It's alright."

"I couldn't know what you wanted," she managed to say. "I never even got to say goodbye!"

"I'm still here."

She couldn't make him understand. So she shook her head, forehead pressed against his shoulder. What did it matter if he believed her or not? "Yeah. You're still here," she said. Maybe that could be some small reassurance. That somewhere, he was still there. "I love you, dad." That, above all else, was what she needed him to know.

"I love you, too, sweetheart."

She squeezed her eyes tight when she felt a hand on her shoulder. It wasn't his. Too small, the touch so light it barely registered. Somehow, a part of her suspected what it was there for, and she kept her eyes shut as though she could stay here forever as long as she didn't open them again. But then, her father was gone. She couldn't feel him anymore, just that small hand on her shoulder. She knew it couldn't last. It didn't make his absence hurt any less.

"There, there," a voice said, and someone stroked her hair. She opened her eyes, met with nothing but blackness. She didn't even feel cold anymore. "It's alright." She glanced back behind her before turning around completely. A young woman stood there, pale, red eyes glowing with compassion. Seeing them reminded Chun-Li quite suddenly that she'd seen this woman before, not too long ago.

"You were there in the woods," she said. She didn't feel threatened by the woman, even if something about her felt a bit off. She couldn't place what it was at first, but it slowly came to her. There was something about her eyes. Not just the odd color, but what lay behind them. She thought of how an ape looks to a person-that spark of intelligence that set it apart from lesser animals, but perhaps not quite enough to pass as human. Only when she looked at this woman, she felt like the ape instead of the person.

"I was," the woman said, patting her on the head. "I just wanted you to know everything would be alright. I suppose a bridge collapsing beneath you might seem a bit scary if you aren't sure you're going to live or not!"

Chun-Li bit back a sarcastic comment. No sense in antagonizing her. "Maybe. Why did the bridge fall, anyway?" she asked. She may as well. There didn't appear to be a whole lot else to do around here, whatever 'here' was.

"I wanted it to," the woman said with a shrug, as though the possibility of their deaths was no big deal. "A shortcut!"

"Shortcut to where?"

"Safety," she said as if it were obvious. "I had to get those dogs off your scents _somehow, _what better way than a river?" She giggled, as if pleased with her own genius. Chun-Li was a bit irritated with the woman's apparent disregard for their well being, but as soon as the thought crossed her mind, the woman sighed and crossed her arms over her chest in a huff. "I wouldn't have done it if I hadn't known you'd both live!"

She stared, more than a little shocked that the woman seemed to be able to read her thoughts. "How did you-"

"Oh," she said, then giggled again. "Well, I just hear what I hear, that's all!" She waved Chun-Li to her as if she were a reluctant dog, and Chun-Li grudgingly obliged.

"What's happening?" she asked. The woman took her hand tightly, leading her along. Chun-Li had to hope this was the right decision, although there seemed to be few alternatives. What good was there in wandering around aimlessly in all of this nothing, after all? "What was all that with my dad?"

The girl skipped as she spoke, seeming a little disappointed Chun-Li wasn't up for doing the same. "That was just a little present for you!" she said. "You know, a little bit of a thank you, for keeping an eye on him, for not letting that Bison get him back. For helping him out when you didn't have to."

"Him who? Andres?" Who else would she mean, given that context?

The girl nodded, hair bouncing along with her. "You always do a good job at everything you do, and I firmly believe that such hard work should always have rewards!"

Her explanations left room for about a dozen more questions each time, but Chun-Li could only focus on one at a time. "How did you know that I'd want to see my dad?"

"Oh, it's only your biggest, deepest want in all your life!" she said, patting her on the head.

"How do you know though?"

She shrugged and said flippantly, "I just know everything."

"Alright..." Chun-Li said slowly, seeing this line of questioning wasn't going to get her anywhere.

"Did you learn something?"

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"When you saw your dad, saw that place, did you learn something?" She cocked her head to the side, encouraging smile spreading slowly over her face.

"I..." Chun-Li began, but had to stop and think. What kind of question was that? She shrugged and shook her head and the woman's face fell into a frown.

"Didn't learn aaaanything?" This was getting frustrating. Did she have to complete this quiz to get out of here or something? She shook her head again and that's when the girl struck. "Thiiink!" she cried as she mercilessly tickled Chun-Li.

"What are-" Chun-Li started to say but it was hard to speak. She didn't want to laugh, but, well, it tickled. The other woman had her on the ground, pinching and squeezing her sides, and Chun-Li told her again and again to stop as she tried to get away.

"Tellll meee!" the girl demanded, unrelenting.

"I-I learned what happens if Bison wins!" she cried around her laughter.

"But what does that mean about you?" the girl said, pausing in her attack, hands still poised and ready.

"I don't-"

The girl sighed and started tickling her again. Chun-Li writhed and begged her to stop. This was ridiculous, that she was being interrogated by way of _tickling. _Never heard that one before. The girl stopped and tried to tease the answer out of her. "What does it mean _you _did?"

"I-I helped make it not happen?" she tried, gasping for breaths. Laughing took a lot out of a person.

The girl gave a delighted cry and cupped both of Chun-Li's cheeks in her hands. She pulled her to her and hugged her tightly, rocking back and forth as she proclaimed, "You did it! You did it! We're halfway there!" She held Chun-Li at arms' length and smiled brightly. "You understand now the severity of what you have helped to prevent! That your actions have mattered, and that you have given more than anyone can ask!" But then she cocked her head. "What else?"

Was it better to make something up, just to spare herself the tickling? She thought hard. This strange woman had specifically mentioned her dad, so was that the answer? "I think...I learned my dad wouldn't expect or demand all of this from me to make up for what happened to him."

"Oooh closer! Almost!" the girl said, hands clasped tightly together in anticipation.

Chun-Li raised an eyebrow, wondering what was going to happen when she gave the right answer. "I learned that he wants me to live my life for myself and to not live in the past." Saying it somehow contributed to her actual complete understanding of it. She knew all at once that she had done enough, just like this strange woman had said. That she wasn't obligated to give any more than she already had. That her life was hers, and she was free to live it on her own terms.

"One...last...thing...!" the girl said.

"I learned..." She stopped, trying to keep the sound of her father's voice alive in her mind. She smiled and felt tears in her eyes. "I learned that he loves me still."

Chun-Li didn't have much time to dwell on it further. The odd girl cried out in triumph and threw her arms around her again. "I'm so proud of you! You did it!"

Chun-Li took a breath, although it was a little difficult with how tightly she was being squeezed. "Um, that's...nice of you, I guess..." She didn't want to be rude to this girl, but there was still a lot to be confused about. She tried to push her away without much success. "Who are you? What is all this?"

"Oh I guess you can call me Ingrid, too. This is just a little place between bigger places," she said, spreading her arms for a moment before dropping them at her side again. "It's a nice place to be alone, don't you think? Just sometimes."

"What do you mean, between places?" Ingrid's vague way of speaking was a little hard to follow, and in a way reminded her of Rose.

"Between worlds. There's so many, more and more all the time, a new one for every choice someone makes." Again, she said this like it was obvious, like Chun-Li was a bit slow to understand things. But it wasn't exactly an easy notion to wrap one's head around. The more she thought of it, the more she began to wonder about.

"You put me in that world where my dad's still alive," she said. "So that's real?" To that, Ingrid nodded. "And all of that stuff Andres said about his life. That's all real, too?" Again, Ingrid nodded. "Are you the one who switched him with Vega?"

"Yes. There was a problem in the place I sent him to. A problem called B-I-S-O-N." She sang the letters of his name to the tune of 'Bingo Was His Name-o', bouncing on her toes as she did.

"You sent _Vega _to deal with Bison? His _boss,_ Bison?" Chun-Li couldn't say she saw the rationale behind that.

Ingrid's lips came together in a tight circle for a brief moment as she slowly shook her head. "Well, he did it. Not without help, but he did what I needed. I wonder if he still thinks of Bison as his boss though? Why don't you ask him?" She smiled another enigmatic smile. Chun-Li shivered suddenly, and water seemed to spring up on her skin, soaking her clothing, her hair. Confused-as if she could be any more than she was already-she looked down at herself, then at the darkness around them. Somehow, something was fading into view, blurry shapes becoming more clearly defined forms. The cold became so intense she found it hard to even breath.

"W-w-ait, I st-still h-have so mu-uch to ask-" She struggled to speak around her chattering jaw.

Ingrid shook her head, still smiling. "Thanks again!" she said, her voice seeming so far away. Chun-Li couldn't stand the effort of sitting up anymore, and fell onto her side. She tried to gasp as pain erupted in her leg, just where Decapre had stabbed her. Like explosions under her skin, more pain tore through her, in her head, her back, her chest, her ribs. All the injuries of the past several hours seemed to wash over her all at once, and it became so unbearable that she struggled to stay awake. Her vision blackened, and she tried to stay conscious as long as she could. She heard voices. Running water. Everything was cold. She forced her eyes open, and the world was clearly defined again. Ingrid was gone, but she saw Andres there. His lips were almost blue. Blood stood out starkly against his pale skin. Was he alive? Was she? Everything began to feel further and further away and she let the cold and darkness take her back.

* * *

It was warm here. Her eyes opened and were met with a plain white ceiling. Something electrical hummed. People were shuffling around nearby but not in her immediate vicinity. Was she safe? She looked around, slowly pushing herself to a sitting position. The action reminded her of the wound in her leg and she sucked in a breath through her teeth. The injury was neatly dressed. She felt dry. Even had socks on her feet. She looked around the hospital room, spotting little of interest. Then she saw him, still asleep or unconscious. His lips weren't blue anymore.

Was that encounter real? Not just Ingrid, but her meeting with her father. It all felt real enough, but so did many a dream after first waking.

She slid out of the cot, careful to put all her weight to her uninjured leg. It was difficult, but she managed to limp her way to the door where their medical charts hung. She grabbed her own, leaning back against the wall as she skimmed it. She hadn't been identified yet, and didn't have any sort of ID on her. A blood transfusion had been performed and she'd received stitches in her leg. She glanced back at him before looking at his medical chart. His identity hadn't been hashed out yet either. He had a broken rib, puncture wound at the shoulder. Like her, he'd needed blood and stitches. But he'd be okay.

"I believe that's quite unethical."

His voice startled her and she almost dropped the chart. Something about the way he spoke made it clear it wasn't Andres anymore, and she whispered, "You're you again."

He felt suddenly sick. So his other self had been cavorting around with her? And the bastard had the gall to cut his hair off? "Who else would I be?" he snapped, unable to pretend he was anything other than furious right now. He didn't have to see that chart to know some of the things that'd put him in here. He felt the unfortunately familiar pain of a broken rib, a stab wound in his shoulder, the bandage at the crook of his arm telling of blood loss, ran his fingers through his shorter hair. What had this idiot gotten himself into while using his body? He briefly considered the state he'd left his other self in, and decided he came out ahead. But it didn't make him any happier about being so beaten up.

"Andres," she said, almost slowly and uncertain as she hobbled back to her cot, eyes never leaving him as a precaution. Sure, they were both pretty damaged. But she'd never put it past him to try to smother her with a pillow and blame it on her injuries.

Maybe she wanted him to be surprised that she knew his name, but he wasn't. He was tired of being surprised. "Well, I'm not. Whatever he did or said, I take no responsibility for it."

"Yeah, I couldn't imagine _you _being that kind," she muttered, her voice taking on that more familiar tone of disappointment and disdain.

His eyes narrowed almost reflexively at hearing her. "Not to you. Not ever," he said. If she had known how he'd behaved over the past two weeks, would she mock him? He hadn't been exactly kind to her other self, but neither had he been capable of rejecting her outright. Even now, as he thought back on it, it seemed so far away. He certainly hadn't treated her with the kind of hatred he usually did, and what did that mean? Ingrid, that bizarre creature, had spelled it out for him-he'd gotten a taste of how attainable love was, and maybe it left him wanting more.

"Good. Then we're agreed," she said. "I don't like you." She tucked her hair back behind her ears.

"I don't like you, either," he said, trying not to wince as he sat up.

"But I liked who you could've been," she added. It took a lot to admit it to him, but she'd never been one for lying to herself or others.

He didn't want to show just how sharply that comment hit him. It wasn't that he wanted her to like him. He hated her and she hated him and that was that. But it was eerily close to the exact words Cammy had used when she found out who he really was. He remembered her alternate self suddenly, how warm her blood had felt on his skin, how her eyes stared lifelessly, no shock, no sadness. He couldn't stand the image that might be plastered in his mind forever, and quickly asked, "What's going on?"

"Juri and Bison were both after you. Bison because he thinks I brainwashed you into forgetting your job as an assassin, Juri because, well, does anyone really know why Juri does the things she does?" Chun-Li said, throwing her hands up at that.

But Vega smirked. "It's what happens when you spurn her advances one too many times, I suppose."

Chun-Li tried to tell herself the redness on her cheeks was due to being cold, and not anything else. Juri made enough lewd implications as it was. She didn't need to hear anything like that from Vega, too. "Juri wants you dead, you know. The last I saw of her, she and Bison were fighting each other and I have no idea who came out on top."

"A fairly even match," he admitted. Juri was much too powerful for himself or Chun-Li to contend with. And it was, in an amusing, ironic way, Bison's fault. He'd created the synthetic eye and Feng Shui engine which gave her so much power. And it was his other creation, Seth, who'd given it to Juri to use against Bison. So here, in this reality, Bison again and again procured and manufactured people and things which led to his own downfall. The image of that pathetic, dessicated monstrosity trapped in the psycho drive flashed behind his eyes. The memory of that seemingly omniscient creature that used Bison's ignorance of a higher force to its advantage. Maybe it was for the best that Shadaloo was always stumbling over itself. "How did I end up with you?" he asked finally. He noticed he wasn't handcuffed to anything, so he hadn't been arrested. He'd have figured that would be her first course of action upon setting eyes on him.

"You-no he," she corrected herself emphatically. "Andres saw me back in Manhattan and he followed me. He thought we were supposed to be in Chicago together because..." Did she really want to say this to him?

But he sighed heavily. "I already know that part. I, unfortunately, had to live it."

"Unfortunately?" she snapped, crossing her arms. "I'm a _prize_. You should count yourself lucky to have ever been the subject of my affections!" Gross as it sounded to her, she didn't want to let him treat her like a curse put on him.

He rolled his eyes at her outburst. "You didn't arrest me." He said it as a fact, not a question, since it was fairly obvious.

"It was tempting," she said, swinging her legs over the side of her cot. "At first." She thought for a moment about how hard it was to come to terms with the fact that something had genuinely changed in him. He was someone she could've seen herself calling a friend, if he'd stayed that way. Would telling that to Vega mean anything to him? At the very least, it'd annoy him, and that was some petty, small victory. "But he proved he was a good person, even if he wasn't as adept or polished or meticulous. Just an average guy and sometimes that's the best kind, when the rest of your life is filled with so many other unaverage things."

"Congratulations on your fondness for mediocrity," he said. "I'm sure some day a painfully ordinary businessman will please you greatly with his plan to save his employer three percent on their quarterlies."

"Such a charmer." She patted him on the shoulder and he suddenly hated how familiar she was behaving towards him. He thought of how he'd deconstructed the other version of her, tore down her trust and confidence. Maybe he hadn't destroyed her devotion, but he'd certainly marred the strength of that relationship, leaving his other self to pick up the pieces and fix it again. So had the opposite happened here? What had happened between the two to make Chun-Li anything other than terrified of him?

"Stop," he ordered, grabbing her by the wrist. There was a slight hint of fear in her eyes, accompanied with a determination to not show it. "You're forgetting I'm not that guy anymore. Touch me again, and I'll tear your fingers out with my teeth, one at a time."

She drew her hand back quickly, glaring at him now. "So not even a full-blown miracle could make you anything approaching tolerable as a person."

"Sue me for not being quite as malleable as you are." The words came out with conviction, but he didn't fully believe them. Not after what Ingrid had said about Bison. He thought of her exact phrasing, being a puppet, and he suddenly hated what he'd allowed himself to become. When had he decided it was more worthwhile to be controlled by another, to be manipulated and ordered around, instead of independent and free to make his own decisions? Why did he want that more than he wanted Cammy? "Tell me where we are," he said. How many times was he going to have to use her as a distraction from his own thoughts?

She sighed heavily. "Someplace in New York. Balrog took us both to some outpost in the mountains."

They were in the Catskills. He knew the place-it was meant to be isolated, to hold captives until a flight back to Shadaloo was ready, or in case any other unforeseen delays occurred. He hadn't been to it personally, but there were a lot of places like this around the globe, away from the bigger cities but near enough should they need to be utilized after an assignment. "Does anyone else know we're here?" he asked.

"Juri and Bison may know we're in the vicinity. But I don't think they know where we are specifically, if either of them are still looking for us," she said. Surely if either of them had known they were here, they wouldn't be alive right now. She saw the gears turning in his head, trying to figure out his chances of getting out of here without handcuffs on him. "Guile might be searching for me. That's all I know."

That was cause enough for him to want to leave. He couldn't begin to guess at whether Bison or Juri won, but he wasn't too keen on being found by either of them. And if Guile showed up here, he'd be outnumbered. He stood up for the first time, nearly every muscle sore. Better than being stabbed in the lung, he supposed. He felt around under the cot and found the bag that held his clothes. Still damp, and there were some blood stains on the shirt. But it was all he had at the moment.

"Do you really think you can get out of here?" she asked.

He just laughed.

She knew she couldn't keep him from leaving. He started to get dressed and she glanced away, even though he did it without exposing himself. "Vega, wait."

He sighed angrily, certainly hoping she didn't plan on trying to stop him. He tried to straighten his shirt out but nothing he did made it any more comfortable to wear. "What?"

"I left something for you." She looked back at him but he didn't look at her. "A folder in your bag. It should still be in my hotel room."

"What is it?" He was suspicious now, trying to imagine what she might've left for him. A bug, a tracker, a bomb, even. She didn't seem like the type, but maybe someone she worked with was.

"It's just a report. But I think it might end up meaning more to you than to me," she said.

"Is that supposed to be a threat?" he asked, heading for the door.

"No," she said. "It's-" Did she tell him what it was about? If she mentioned his dad, he might just throw it out without even reading it. So she decided to play it safe. "It's just something I think you might be better off knowing." Painful as it probably would be to read, she thought maybe it would help him in the long run to know his father hadn't just abandoned him and his mother. To know that he'd spent his self-imposed exile missing them as much as they probably missed him. She'd gotten her own sort of closure, whether it was due to some frantic hallucination of a mind facing death, or the real work of some incredibly powerful creature she couldn't hope to understand. So she supposed he deserved his own. "Please, just read it, okay?"

His brows came together slightly, like he was wary or suspicious of her. But finally he said, "If you insist."

She told him the room number, with the caveat that it may be considered a crime scene right now, given Juri's intrusion. It wouldn't be the first time he'd tampered around with evidence. He couldn't decide whether or not it'd be the last.

* * *

Vega got to see his mom so I thought it was only fair Chun-Li got to see her dad. I didn't have her meet her other self because there wasn't much for them to say to each other and the 'lessons' the real Chun-Li could learn seemed as though they'd be more effective coming from her dad. Hope it wasn't disappointing.

I've taken some liberties with Ingrid but I thought since we know so little about her, it's all up to speculation as it is anyway. Well, one last small chapter and this will be over! Thanks to everybody who has been reading along. :)


	15. Chapter 15

Curiosity had overtaken him, and he'd gone after the report. As Chun-Li mentioned, it was still considered a crime scene. And why not? There was blood on the carpet, reports of a noisy struggle, and the person who'd rented the room was nowhere to be found. He wondered what she'd have to say to the police about it. No one ever came looking for him for questioning, and the more time that passed, the less concerned he was.

That was nearly two weeks ago and he hadn't managed to read the file. He'd opened it once before he knew what it was about. The moment he saw his dad's name, he closed it and didn't touch it for a few days. He tried to keep himself busy, a way of giving himself excuses as to why he couldn't read that didn't amount to the truth: 'I'm afraid of what's in it'. He didn't want to throw it away, so it sat there waiting for him every night.

Being busy was easy for him, even in the winter when there were no corridas. He spent a lot of time away from home, either in museums and galleries, finding his way into parties rich people threw to impress other rich people, wasting money in whatever way seemed best at the moment, anything to not be alone with those papers.

One such night he ended up in a restaurant, an old favorite. Everything was fine until he went to pay. The man taking his card did a double take at the name and mentioned a piece of mail sent to the place a couple weeks ago. He had no real explanation for the waiter as to why his phone ended up here, but in a way he was relieved to see it. Maybe it'd shed some light on what had happened. He also anticipated some contact from Shadaloo, but found none when he turned it on. Did that mean Bison lost against Juri? A sudden emptiness planted itself in the pit of his stomach. If she came for him, he had to face the fact that he wasn't going to win. He walked home, clutching his phone. Hiding was stressful. He didn't want to do it anymore, and paranoia was far from attractive.

He made it home and the report still lay on the counter, daring him to read it. It felt almost like it was staring at him, ready to grow limbs and beat him until he paid it the attention it deserved. Hadn't he just been thinking of how tired he was of hiding from things? So he opened it. He couldn't really remember his dad-what he looked like, sounded like, how he spoke, or even what he did for a living. He'd spent his entire life blaming his dad for what happened to his family. Blaming him for making his mom so bitter, for making her feel worthless. She'd buried those feelings of inadequacy, turning it to cynicism and disdain for everyone else. She wouldn't allow people to see her as lonely and afraid even if that's what she was deep down. Afraid that she'd done something to deserve being abandoned.

Neither of them ever knew why he left. His mother claimed she didn't care, that they were better off without him. 'Men take what they want out of you, then they leave. It's what they've always done, and it's what they'll always do.' That's what she'd say, and he was too young to really understand, but he pretended to for her sake. Men were bad. That's what it amounted to in his young mind. He felt sick as the dream-like memory of Ingrid's assessment of Bison came back to him. 'Chews you up and spits out the bones once he's gotten what he wanted.' And he did the same thing himself, didn't he?

He looked back down at the words, trying to focus, but the more he read the more difficult it became. It challenged everything he ever thought about his dad. Bison's involvement hit him so hard that he didn't want to believe it. He tried to fool himself into thinking Chun-Li had falsified the report in some attempt to dissuade him from rejoining Shadaloo. It was a clever, detailed trick to make him turn his hatred to Bison. He wanted to believe that so badly. If it wasn't faked, it meant he'd worked for the man who'd taken everything from him, did his bidding without question. That couldn't be the truth.

Then he got to the letters and everything fell apart. He felt torn to pieces inside, struggling to reconcile the idea of his father as some selfish piece of shit who didn't want the responsibility of a family with the dozens of letters desperately begging forgiveness. His dad made a mistake, and he didn't want it to be taken out on them. He didn't want them to be in danger. Leaving seemed like the only option, to draw Bison's eye towards himself and away from his home and his family. The futility of the whole thing began to overwhelm him, and he nearly crumpled the paper in his hands. All he had to do was tell them. So much could have changed, it could have been better. His parents could've figured something out together. Or at the very least, his mom could know it wasn't her fault.

He threw the folder away, papers fluttering everywhere. He sank his hands into his hair, trying to get a hold of himself, but he'd never been good at that. His life was based on lies, fueled by lies, everything was lie after tangled up lie. He thought his teeth might crack if he ground them together any harder, a desperate effort to keep everything from spilling out. Why did all of this have to happen? Why did Chun-Li give him this? Wasn't it easier to not know? Did the truth really matter at this point? What could he really do about it?

He picked up a letter that had fallen near his feet, frustrated with his trembling fingers, shaking with something like rage or fear, he couldn't place which. 'Andres, you'll be fifteen today. That means it's been a decade since I last saw you. I bet you've taken good care of your mom. What will you get up to with your friends tonight? Don't cause your mom too much worry, but I know how it is to be a boy. I wish I could be there. I'd give anything to see you and your mom again. I could say sorry until the world ends and it wouldn't be enough. Do you remember me still? Do you know my name? Would you recognize me if I passed you on the street? I'm sure you two won't end up in Santiago anytime soon. I still look though. We do funny things like that, don't we? I try to picture what you might look like now. You got my stupid hair that doesn't know if it wants to be curly or straight. Sorry, kid. You got your mom's perfect blue eyes. You get tan like me, more than your mom anyway. You got her blond hair, even if it's a little darker than hers. I wonder if you're tall like me. What's your favorite subject? What kind of hobbies do you have? Shit, I'm just rambling on, aren't I? It's what happens when you miss someone so much. I can't keep it all in and there's so much I want you to know, so much I want to know about you. Maybe one day, when I'm sure they're not looking for me anymore, I can come home and we can talk about all of it. But they just keep getting bigger, these guys, and I'm afraid, I'm really afraid. Don't ever do what I did, okay? Be careful. All the time, be careful, and just be good to people. It's your best bet in life to stay out of trouble, and I know that sounds like a load of shit coming from me, but I hope you understand the enormity of the mistakes I had to make to learn this. The world's not always nice, but you can't give up on it, okay? Giving up is the worst thing you can do for yourself. It's why I still write you guys all the time, because I won't give up on the idea that some day I'll be able to get these letters to you. Maybe I can hand them to you myself. That's what I look forward to. To seeing your mom and, look, she'd probably smack me in the head a few times before I could get a word in. I deserve it, don't worry. And I look forward to seeing you. Even if I'll regret it every day that I missed out on getting to watch you grow up, that I couldn't be there for you, I'll still get to be proud of who you are.'

An awful noise escaped him as he crumpled the paper up, unable to read anymore. He held his head in his hands, elbows propped against his knees and eyes screwed shut like he could unread all of that. Everything was ruined. It was ruined before he even started, and he wanted to tear himself apart from the inside. He wasn't sure how long he laid there on the floor with his arms over his head like he was trying to protect himself from something. Tired eyes scanned the room but he didn't get up. All of those awful letters were still scattered around the place, taunting him. How terrible that his dad had loved him. How terrible that he'd had to learn that he'd ended up working for the man who ruined his family. How terrible that he had to face the fact that he'd turned into everything his parents warned him about. Neither of them could possibly be proud of what he was. If only he could cut out the rotten parts of himself, to just be good like his dad had asked. But what was the point of thinking that way? Wasn't he supposed to always be sure of himself? His brain had been replaced by two rabid dogs ripping each other's throats out to achieve dominance over the other. Round and round they went: 'I'm not wrong, killing is what I'm good at, and I'm not ashamed!' 'I'm subhuman scum, a monster that thrives off the misery of others to better ignore my own, I'm the most shameful creature in existence!' He tried to picture his mom watching him plunge that claw through some man's gut. How could she be horrified? Hadn't she told him they were all terrible? Isn't this what terrible people deserved?

What was he supposed to do now? He couldn't keep going with this new knowledge undoing all of his internal logic. Part of him said this was pathetic. The rest was too miserable too care. He couldn't escape who he was, what he'd done. Ingrid's encouragement, again so much like a dream he had trouble believing it had happened, came to mind. But change seemed impossible. And was it even what he wanted? With both parents dead, who did he have left to disappoint?

His phone twittered out a notification. He laid still for a moment as if the sender of the message would forget he existed if he didn't move. He didn't want to look at it because he was certain it was Bison, finally demanding his services again. Who else would it be this time of night? Sagat made it look so easy to just leave, but would he have the same luck? Of course he wanted out now. Bison destroyed his life. Maybe he hadn't done much to prevent or change it, but he could start now by telling the man he quit. That much he was ready for. He took a breath reached for the phone, and forced himself to read the message.

It was quite simple, but the very last thing he expected. 'Happy birthday!'

He stared at it. He'd forgotten altogether in all his scrambling to keep busy, but Cammy hadn't. His expectation of what this message would be clashed briefly with the reality, forcing his mind to change directions. The adrenaline required to tell Bison off didn't exactly disappear, but it was now necessary for a different task. He didn't care if he looked needy. He responded immediately, suddenly frantic for her attention. 'Thank you. How will you be celebrating?' he asked her. Anything to make her answer.

A few tense minutes passed. He stared at the phone, waiting for a response. He tried to convince himself that she wouldn't at all, bracing for the inevitable realization that she was just being polite. She didn't really want to talk to him and he was plainly deluding himself to think otherwise.

'Maybe I'll drink a Spanish sort of drink. What's a good one?'

He laughed a desperate kind of laugh. She'd talk to him after all. 'Sangria is sweet. So you would like it.'

Her response was quicker this time. 'Oh you think just because I'm a girl I can only drink sweet fruity things?'

He smiled. 'No, I think because you are Cammy you can only drink sweet things.'

'Fair enough. What will you be having then?'

He paused as he considered what to say. Suddenly he didn't want to be alone anymore, and he boldly asked, 'What if we went to a 'proper English pub' where I can tell you all the food you eat is terrible and you can tell me how disgusting fried squid is?'

It was the longest two minutes of his life, waiting for her answer. 'Oh ha ha.'

He took a breath to settle his nerves. Maybe she was trying to say no without having to expressly say it. Maybe she thought he was joking. 'I'm serious.'

'You'd come all this way on your birthday no less?'

First he typed up a fairly lengthy-for a text message-screed about how he'd cross the Sahara on a fucking camel if it meant getting to sit across from her for an evening. But then he erased it all and simply wrote, 'Yes'.

'Well if that's what you'd like.'

He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. He felt more alert now after the exchange, a little bit of happiness trying to push its way through among all of the turmoil. This conversation with Cammy was completely unexpected, and he was somewhat embarrassed over how desperate he'd felt when he saw her name. He'd wanted a distraction and he'd gotten it. He couldn't say how long he'd be able to hold onto it, but what was the point in speculating when he had plane tickets that needed buying?

* * *

She held tight to the strap of her bag. It was warm outside, just enough cottony clouds to provide a comfortable shade while still affording a view of the bright blue sky. She put her order in, smiling to the clerk in thanks when the transaction ended. The whole exchange was spoken in French. She was getting a bit better, but there were still some difficulties. Coming to Paris for a few weeks was certainly spurring on the learning process. Nothing helped people learn quite like necessity.

There was still an empty table by the window and she took it, briefly glancing out before returning her attention to her newest order of business. A few different papers, applications for starting a school, for renting a place to teach in, even one for adopting a child, though she wasn't quite as certain about that one yet. A child was a huge responsibility, but she thought it was a good way to make a difference in the world without having to put herself in harm's way. Once she was more settled in her new life, she'd make a decision. For now, though, it was something just to think about.

She was going home in a few weeks, intent on teaching and passing on her martial arts knowledge to any who were willing to learn. It seemed to her a good way to honor her father, sharing his knowledge with others. She'd kept ties with Interpol, unable to bring herself to quit completely. But she decided this was a step in the right direction. Her whole life couldn't be about saving the world anymore. She'd put in her time, she decided, and no one could ask for more than that. It was time for her to live for herself, before she turned around and regretted it.

It felt strange to think of now, three months after it happened, but that frantic romp through New York with Vega-or Andres, whoever-stuck with her in a few ways. Maybe that's what Ingrid intended. She smiled a little to herself and shook her head. Had all of that even been real? It was like a dream to her. At the time, soon after waking in that hospital bed, it certainly felt real. But as the days passed, she'd been less sure. Had her mind made all of that up to try to settle her anxiety about her father? Was it just stress? After all, few things were quite as terrifying as being chased through an unfamiliar, snow-covered wilderness by Bison _and _Juri. She hadn't heard about either of them, who won or lost. If they were still alive. Maybe in time she'd find out, but she hoped she got to do so peacefully. The idea made her suddenly tense, the thought crossing her mind that even if she was done enforcing the law, maybe the criminals weren't done with her. A glance through the window to the peaceful, sunny street outside helped calm her nerves. Living her life in fear was not what she wanted, not what her father would've wanted for her, so she wouldn't do it. If either one came for her, she'd deal with it then. No sense wondering about what ifs when she had plenty to occupy her already.

Her friends had responded pretty positively overall to her change in direction. Guile agreed whole-heartedly with her decision, and it made her feel better, his exact words being, "It's what you're dad would've wanted." Ken asked if it meant she had more free time for globe-trotting with him and Eliza. She'd laughed and had to decline, but promised to take a trip with them sometime. A little vacation time never hurt anyone, she figured.

Even with taking on a new career path, she still couldn't help but keep tabs on old interests as best as she could. She wasn't afforded the access to the same amount of privileged information as before, but there was always the news. And there was very little of it. Shadaloo was regarded as less of a threat since SIN had splintered off the year before. There was little in the way of criminal activity linked to either group in recent months, and she hoped it'd stay that way. Her kidnapping had been the last significant piece of news about the pair of terrorist organizations. She was still a detective then, and it was a little surreal investigating a case about herself for once. The cabin she'd mentioned had been searched, but little had been found. Decapre and Balrog were both gone. Nothing in the way of hidden weapons or any other technology. She'd told the police about a second hostage and felt guilt over lying about not knowing who he was. "When I woke up at a nearby hospital, he left without saying anything to anyone," she said when questioned about him. She couldn't bring herself to say it was one of Shadaloo's assassins. For the time he'd been held captive with her, he hadn't been, so wouldn't it have been a lie to call him that? But a little seed of guilt had planted itself in her. Had she enabled him to kill again? Or would law enforcement even been able to find him, given Vega's knack for disappearing? The thought wouldn't leave her, and at times overwhelmed her. She'd search for information on his whereabouts, but found very little.

Her name was called, bringing her back to her surroundings. She went to the counter for her drink, leaving her papers on the table. Being that they were all in Mandarin, she had few worries over someone snooping. Even if they did, there wasn't much to see. It was a little refreshing, not having to be paranoid about someone looking for evidence to destroy or files to sabotage. After thanking the clerk, she sat back down. With a quiet sigh, she looked at all the forms she had to review and fill out. Generally she was a very motivated worker, prompt and efficient, always meeting her deadline. Usually, if anything, she worked too much. She looked at the numerous pages of technical bureaucratic jargon, then back out at the sunny streets of Paris. Maybe the world wouldn't end if she held off on sinking herself into these forms for a few minutes.

She meandered through a few social media accounts while she waited on her drink to cool. Maybe she was slightly addicted to all of this stuff. Just about everyone her age was, so she tried not to feel too embarrassed. She liked to see how her friends were doing, what exciting things they were up to. Sakura posted an enthusiastic update about heading to a tournament in Kyoto. Ken and Eliza were skiing in the Alps because why not? She shook her head at the photo Eliza had taken of Ken on the ski lift, goggle and hat powdered with snow, cracking a grin and a thumbs up at the camera. Julia was fed up with the weather. Cammy had been out at a bar with some friends.

She did a double take of the photo. She recognized Lita sitting on Cammy's left. One of Cammy's friends was taking the picture. But the guy sitting on her right, trying to bury his face in her shoulder looked an awful lot like Vega. He probably didn't want to be photographed because he knew some of Cammy's friends would recognize him. Anyone who didn't would probably just think he was camera shy. A part of her worried for Cammy as she realized what this picture might mean. Was her friend getting in over her head? Was she taking a deadly risk, staying friends with Vega like this? What about the conditions Cammy had laid out to him? A glance at her papers made her dwell on the idea of change, and she knew how difficult it could be to abandon everything you were used to and dive into new and unfamiliar territory. She was doing it now, and while it seemed intimidating at times, she knew it was what she wanted. She gently tapped the edge of her phone to the table as she thought. Did Vega have thoughts like that? Had he really tried to change much of who he was, or had he lied to Cammy in order to get what he wanted? Her instinct told her the latter, given his manipulative and selfish nature. There really was no way of telling from here. But Cammy was a strong person, and Chun-Li had to let her make her own decisions.

She sighed quietly before returning her eyes to her papers and sipping her tea. She had some work to do.

* * *

Originally i wasnt going to write the part about Vega reading the letters his dad wrote but then i felt like that might disappoint some people. Hopefully what is written is not more disappointing haha. And i intentionally left the results of bison and juri's fight ambiguous because i don't know what capcom intends to do with them.

a special thanks to the anonymous reviewer on 'potential' named 'hey', because without them mentioning seeing what was going on with alternate vega and chun-li, i probably wouldn't have even thought to write this fic haha. so thanks again for the idea :)

and well i guess that's it for this story! hope it turned out alright. :) Thanks so much to everybody who read, reviewed, followed, favorited, or even glanced at it. You guys are really kind and very encouraging, a big part of helping see this story through to the end. :) Thanks again!


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